Buck Rogers: Far Beyond the World
by Tiberius
Summary: The spaceship Searcher returns home after completing her historic mission to find Earth invaded and humanity enslaved! Buck, Wilma and Hawk are thrown into a deadly conflict with a cruel enemy! The final chapter is now up!
1. Part I

_In the year 1987, at the John F. Kennedy Space Center, NASA launched the last of America's deep space probes..._

_The payload perched on the nose cone of the massive rocket was a one-man exploration vessel: Ranger 3_

_Aboard this compact starship, a lone astronaut, Captain William 'Buck' Rogers, was to experience cosmic forces beyond all comprehension, an awesome brush with death..._

_In a wink of an eye his life support systems were frozen by temperatures beyond imagination. Ranger 3 was blown out of it's planned trajectory into an orbit a thousand times more vast!_

_An orbit which was to return the ship full circle to it's point of origin, it's Mother Earth, not in five months..._

_But in five HUNDRED years..._

_For five hundred years Buck Rogers drifted through a world in-which reality and fantasy merged into a timeless dream..._

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World  
**

**Part I - Alive and Kicking **

_In the year 2494..._

With a brilliant shimmer of diamond-shaped light, the Earth ship _Searcher_ completed transit through the final stargate and the artificial space/time portal snapped shut behind her, ending the last leg of the spaceship's return journey to her star system of origin.

For the first time in more then two years, the rays of Sol played across the hull of the pug-prowed deep space exploration vessel, painting her usually subdued gunmetal grey hull plating in shades of sizzling orange and dazzling gold.

But the warm exterior appearance of the craft did not mirror the mood of the interior, especially among the crew upon the forward Bridge, which was at best morosely subdued, and at worst, cut with fearful trepidation.

Most of the assembled crew stood instead of sat at Stations, with two of the top Officers standing at the forefront of the deck, closest to the Master Screen, the primary display mounted at the front of the Bridge.

On the left was Colonel Wilma Deering, a tall, athletic woman, her regal bearing evident despite her demure appearance, thanks in part to her crisp uniform and the tight bun she had pulled her wavy auburn hair into. Over the last two years Col. Deering had 'let her hair down', as her closest friend had put it in that unique way of his, both figuratively and literally, but now her hair style matched her mood: cautious and severe.

And the close friend in question was also the person on her right, a square jawed, bull-chested figure of a man, clad unlike Deering, in what would be considered casual attire, much more fitting for a rogue space explorer then a starched Officer of the Earth Exploration Directorate, though the man considered himself to be a fusion of both, much to the consternation of his friend and partner, Wilma.

His name: William Anthony Rogers, Captain as per a granted field title given him soon after his arrival in this, the 25th Century.

But he didn't go by William, or even Bill. No, he was known to both friends, superiors, subordinates, and especially enemies, by the nickname of

"BUCK!"

The crew all jerked, save Wilma and Rogers, and every face turned to bear upon the one who had shouted, a tall being clad in black armor, his imposing hook-nosed visage made even more intimidating by his helmet-shaped shock of grey-flecked white hair, which a closer inspection would reveal to be composed of a tight network of feathers, exposing his true nature not to be human, but of a humanoid race known as the Bird-People.

_Searcher_'s prime reason for leaving Earth and setting off across the Galaxy was to locate the various groups of human beings that left Earth to settle in deep space before and after the devastating Nuclear Holocaust of 1987, and that mission had it's first true success with the discovery, and subsequent recruitment to the crew, of this very alien man, the famed warrior known as

"Hawk!" snapped back Buck in reply, "What is it?"

"There, Rogers!" and the alien threw out a hand and gestured at the screen in warning, "Can't you see it?"

All eyes returned to the holographic Master Screen, but none saw what the Bird-Man indicated.

"Our eyes aren't as sharp as yours, Hawk." scowled the heavy-set Admiral Efram Asimov from the raised Command platform, as he searched the seemingly-empty starfield they were rushing through, "But are you sure you aren't imagining it? Understandable, considering the circumstances."

"If he says he see's something, Admiral, then I believe him." said Buck.

"What is it, Hawk?" asked Wilma, her stomach knots tightening even further.

"Four vessels on an intercept course with us." his gaze narrowed.

The Admiral was still not convinced, "Are you completely sure-"

"Sir!" piped up the Tactical Officer, "I am detecting four ships on a direct bearing for _Searcher_, just now entering our extreme Scanner range."

Asimov sat back with a frown, "That'll teach me to doubt you. Apologies, Hawk."

"None required, Admiral." and he folded arms across his molded black breastplate.

"Perhaps now we will finally get an explanation for why we have been unable to contact Earth at all since entering radio range a week ago." remarked Colonel Deering, cautiously allowing a hopeful tenor to enter her tone.

"I'm with you on that, Wilma." said Buck, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully, "The waiting has been killer. I can't take much more of this, and neither can the crew I'd wager. I'm getting tired of breaking-up arguments every hour and at least one fist-fight a day."

"Perhaps the crew would benefit from a broad-based sedative." suggested a dry mechanical voice from the rear of the Bridge.

"Not now, Crichton." Buck shot a glare back over his shoulder at the tall robot.

"I was only attempting to offer my sage advice-"

"And I'm saying can-it." interrupted Buck, "Last thing we need right now is the crew falling asleep at their posts."

"Whatever..." snorted the rectangular-headed automaton, "As always, I bow to your superior intellect." The last line was stated sarcastically, not that Rogers needed to hear the tone to sense Crichton's ambivalence.

_One of these days I'm gonna do it,_ Buck seethed inwardly. _That trumped-up bucket of rusty bolts is going to push me one step too far and I'm just gonna haul off and atomize him with a pulsar pistol. And nobody would criticize me for doing it, I know it, because lately he's been getting worse and driving everybody nuts!_

"Are they within Comm range?" demanded the Admiral, as four tiny dots at last materialized on the Master Screen and began to slowly expand.

"Not yet, sir." replied Tactical.

"As soon as they are, hail them."

"Understood."

"Buck?" Wilma moved closer to the Captain and spoke to him in a low voice.

"Yeah?" he stared with a dark intensity at the displayed objects, gaze searching for any details as to their layout.

"Do you think it's a welcoming party?"

"What, from Earth?"

"Yes."

"I darn well hope so, Wilma. But somehow I doubt it."

She sighed, "Why? Because of our failure to reach home with the Comm?"

"Yeah, that pretty much hits the nail on the head. Something is up, Wilma, and it's probably not good."

"Yes, I know." she gripped his arm gently for support, and Buck was glad of the personal contact. It lessened the tension, if only a fraction. But any reduction to the stress was warmly welcome right now. He wished he could wrap an arm around Wilma's narrow shoulders and pull her to him, to give comfort to her when she so desperately needed it. But that was out of the question.

_But sooner or later it's NOT gonna be out of the question, this I swear,_ he promised himself deep within. But most likely it was a hollow oath, because Buck knew Wilma's first duty was to Earth, and for her to give herself to him in pretty much any way beyond the current gentle touch, she would need to first let go of that duty, or at least feel her presence was no longer required on the front lines, defending their homeworld.

_So much for finally making my move when we got back to Earth,_ Buck scowled, then his gaze narrowed because on the Master Screen he finally was able to identify the ships closing on them at maximum speed.

_No..._

"Buck!" gasped Wilma and her soft grip became frantically tight.

"ADMIRAL!" shouted the Tactical Officer.

"I see it, son!" growled Asimov, "Go to Full Alert!"

"What make of craft are those?" frowned Hawk, his hackles rising despite the lack of pertinent information.

"The last kind I ever wanted to see again." replied Buck Rogers, his gaze hard as marble, "They're-"

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" exclaimed Twiki from his position beside Crichton, "Draconian Marauders! Oh my achin circuits!"

And they were! The four trident-shaped attack ships screamed toward _Searcher_ and as one unit unleashed their missiles!

**To be continued...**


	2. Part II

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part II - Back to Square One**

_On the extreme outskirts of the Sol Star System..._

Their hulls painted an angry orange, the quartet of fearsome-looking Draconian Hatchet-Fighters soared across the blackened depths of space toward the rapidly approaching star cruiser, and as one squadron they unleashed their missiles upon her, then split from each other, breaking into two pairs which banked away in opposite loops, so as to avoid the coming detonation.

Onboard the Earth starship, her burly commander shot to his feet, eyes wide, "Raise Defence Shield!"

"Raised, Admiral!" shouted the dark-skinned Tactical Officer in reply.

"Evasive maneuvers!"

"Sir! It's too late!"

"I don't care, Lieutenant! DO IT!"

"But-"

"No time!" shouted Hawk from the back of the Bridge.

"Everybody!" growled William 'Buck' Rogers, the ship's acting First Officer, "Brace yourselves!"

And grabbing Col. Wilma Deering, Buck threw himself hard to the left, slapping up against the nearest bulkhead and pulling the two of them down into a crouch.

A moment later the first pair of Draconian missiles impacted with _Searcher_'s forward energy barrier. They DETONATED in twin fiery blasts of devastating orange power that formed into one cascading energy wave that ripped into the shield and tore it down within less then two seconds, leaving the hull completely unprotected.

And then the second pair of missiles roared in and struck! _BOOOM! BAAA-BOOOOM!_

_Searcher_ shook and rocked, hull plating flew and two decks were torn open and exposed to the vacuum of space, crewmen went hurtling out into the black as crackling energy flames pounded the exterior of the ship and backlashed into her internal systems, causing massive overloads throughout the vessel.

The aft-facing Plasma Engines were the first Primary System to be affected and within seconds they overloaded, knocking _Searcher_ out of her forward flight and sending her banking madly to starboard.

Down in the Propulsion Deck, people were thrown in all directions! As the Plasma Reactor that took up half the massive chamber pulsed one final time then winked out, screaming Engineers went hurtling past it's hulking machinery, slamming into walls and the ceiling, bouncing off the grilled deck like ten-pins. The Chief himself hurtled down the tilting floor, hands madly scrambling for a purchase that wouldn't come, then he struck the Master Control console head-first, tearing flesh from his skull and knocking himself out cold...

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Three levels above in the his private lab, Dr. Goodfellow was strapped into the only chair anchored to the deck, and he stared about him in wonder as gear and equipment rattled across the floor, piling up in a mess on the starboard side, the more fragile pieces shattering and breaking apart. The older man winced at the awful noise, which he could barely hear now over rising howl of the hull plating as the ship hurtled out of control through space around him.

"By Tartarus! By Tyr! What the devil is happening?" he gripped the armrests with all his strength and wondered if the trip beyond his home system had actually been worth it, if he was only to die within seconds of returning, before he could pass on all the incredible knowledge he had gathered during their nearly two years of questing out amongst the lost colonies of Man.

_The journey is it's own reward,_ he told himself as the lights went out and he was plunged into total darkness.

Goodfellow shut his eyes and prayed to the Gods to protect the crew he'd become so attached to...

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_Above..._

On the Bridge, those that were still standing were tossed like rag-dolls, while half the ones in chairs were thrown out of them to tumble to the deck, as the lights failed and the room seemed to flip-flop.

Crichton the robot pitched over in a flailing of mechanical limbs and crashed to the deck on top of Twiki, the much smaller Ambuquad, who emitted an angry cry of synthetic pain. On the other side of the Bridge, Wilma gripped Rogers tightly, as he braced them against the bulkhead with the emergency railing mounted there.

"Buck!" she managed to shout over the howling of _Seacher_'s hull and the scream of the battered vessel's shorting-out Plasma Engines, "We have to do something!"

"We ARE doing something, Wilma! We're trying to stay alive!"

"But if we don't act, the ship will-" she was cut-off by a tremendous explosion overhead! Blue sparks rained down like a scalding shower and were followed by a large chunk of the ceiling, easily three meters across, which broke loose with a roar and plummeted downwards.

Directly for the Command platform!

"ADMIRAL!" shouted Hawk and the Bird-Man sprang with lightning-fast reflexes from his own protective crouch on the deck for the portly commander who had just gotten to his feet.

Hawk tackled Asimov hard and the two of them were catapulted away to safety, and the ceiling chunk SLAMMED down onto the Command platform a half second later, crushing it into squashed metal and sending plastic shrapnel whizzing away in all directions.

A Yeoman was nearly struck in the shoulder by a buzzing piece, while the Tactical Officer howled in agony as a pair of shards tore into his chest in a spray of blood! He pitched over dead and fell to the deck on his back, sliding away as _Searcher_ continued to pitch over onto her starboard side.

Buck eyed the dead Officer's body as it tumbled past his and Wilma's position and a cold fury rose within him, his teeth grit and his lip curled.

"Take the railing!" he growled at the Colonel, and once she was secure he pushed up with everything he had, fighting the tremendous g-forces now assailing the howling starship.

_Have to...have to save...the ship! _ he raged at himself internally, _it's all up...to...ME...now!_

Buck staggered to his feet, body bent at a terrific angle against the pitching deck, then he staggered forward, the only person standing on the Bridge now. He pushed forward, determination flaring from his face, and made his agonizing way toward the Helm, putting one heavy foot after the other, dragging himself to the console, and then a moment later he made it!

"Sorry..." Rogers rasped to the unconscious Helmsman as he yanked him bodily from his seat then dropped down into it himself.

Half the controls were fried and smoke was pumping out from under the Station, Buck coughed and gagged, fought to see through clenched and stinging eyes, searching desperately for the controls he needed. _Searcher_ was almost upside-down now and the inertia that was now plastering Rogers into the Helm seat was also threatening to push him into unconsciousness.

_N-No! Can't bl-blackout! Have to-Have to st-stay awake! If I fail w-we all...DIE!_

At last he found the controls he sought, but they refused to respond to his darting fingers, so he had to reroute them to an auxiliary point on the heavily damaged console, wasting precious seconds. Sweat poured down Buck's back and his expression was one of excruciating agony as he forced himself to stay seated, as the g-forces pounded on him, doing their damndest to force him flat against the board and drive him into the sweet release of senselessness.

_Near...near...nearly...there..._

The auxiliary controls lit-up and he gasped in relief, reached for the rerouted Emergency Thruster Control, but the gravimetric forces plying at him seemed to suddenly double in intensity, his body spasmed, muscles failing him, and Buck slammed down onto the console, the upper part of his body splaying against it.

_NO! No..._

The hand closest to the controls jerked once, then was still, the re-lit buttons remained un-pressed, and Buck fell into dark oblivion.

_Wilma...I am...so...so sorry, _were his final thoughts as the Universe fell away.

_...Wilma..._

**To be continued...**


	3. Part III

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part III - Chink in the Armor**

_Aboard the Draconian Hatchet-Fighter designated Marauder-94..._

The swarthy lead pilot shrunk back into his heavily-padded seat as the lean rust-colored attack craft banked at a fantastic rate, it's upgraded engines pushing it to the extreme limits of acceleration, even as the powerful port thrusters blasted at maximum strength, keeping the trim ship in it's all-out loop.

His radio chimed and he pressed the control on his dash console to connect the channel, spoke into his comlink, "Lieutenant Bonengel here. Go ahead."

"_Report!_" came the demand from his distant star fortress.

"We have engaged a vessel that penetrated the boundaries of the system."

"_They did not transmit proper Draconian protocols?_"

"They did not transmit at all, sir." he replied.

"_Have you destroyed them yet?_"

"Possibly."

"_What do you mean: possibly! Explain, Lieutenant!_"

"We disabled their defence shield with a missile barrage, and then two more projectiles got through and appear to have damaged them severely. They are listing, their engines are down, and they have multiple hull breaches."

"_Serious?_"

"Very."

"_Good. Have you been able to identify the ship?_"

"No, sir. It doesn't match any configuration in our data banks. But it could be human."

"_Of Earth origin?_"

"Again, too hard to tell." Bonengel brought up an image his Marauder's nose camera had snapped during the initial attack and transmitted it back to the star fortress, "I managed to capture this image of text upon it's forward hull."

"_Receiving image now and processing. ...Searcher?_"

"Yes, that appears to be the vessel's name."

"_What are these words beneath the name? _Per Ardua Ad Astra_? What language is that? It's not English._"

"I have never seen it before, sir." and the Lieutenant's Marauder came out of it's loop at last and he levelled out, the enemy vessel sprang into view, a tiny grey object in the far distance.

"We are prepared to make a second attack run, sir. Shall we proceed?"

"_Yes. Finish them off. Atomize the invading craft allowing for no survivors. All glory to the Draconian Dynasty!_"

"Vengeance for Draconia!" Bonengel shouted into the comlink, then broke the connection and signalled to the other three fighters.

They formed up into a wedge-formation and set off back to their target, readying their remaining missiles for the kill...

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_Ten seconds earlier..._

Captain William 'Buck' Rogers finally succeeded in rerouting the Emergency Thruster controls and the auxiliary panel lit-up, but the rising g-forces battering him at last increased beyond his threshold of resistance and with a final agonized gasp he slumped over the Helm board, eyes rolling back in his sockets.

His hand twitched once, an inch from the controls that might have saved _Searcher_ from her imminent destruction, then went limp, Buck dropped into unconsciousness, the last hope for the ship and crew halted before he could complete the titanic task he had fought so hard to achieve.

Or, nearly the last hope.

With a roar of raw will, the alien being called Hawk thrust himself up beside the temporally displaced American and with his last ounce of amazing Bird-Man strength he slapped the pulsing button, then collapsed down onto the console beside Buck.

And on the exterior of the ship, the port thrusters fired, blazing to alabaster life all along the left side of the hull! They blasted into space, tearing into the rocketing turn they were banking into, unleashing all their power to fight the terrific pull, and for an endless moment the ship's hull was pulled in opposing directions, as natural inertia fought the man-made version. But then artificial gravity won out and Searcher came out of the bank and ground to a quivering halt, flipped half-over on her starboard side, completely out of Azimuth with the rapidly approaching Draconian fighters.

Buck's eyelids fluttered open and he dragged in a deep breath of precious oxygen, he rose up groaning from the Helm and stared at the feathered head of the alien beside him.

"H-Hawk? You-You did it!"

"We...we did it...Earth-Man..." moaned his friend, as Buck helped him to stand.

"Talk about a last-second Hail Mary Pass!" grinned Buck and he slapped the Bird-Man heartily on the back, "You saved our bacon, Hawk!"

"Then award me a medal later, Rogers. B-But right now we have greater problems."

"Tell me about it." scowled Buck as he regarded the Master Screen.

It was flickering badly, crisscrossed with lines of interference, but it was still active. And on it the four Draconian Marauders were expanding rapidly.

"They're coming back for a second pass!" he growled.

"There will not be a third." observed Hawk.

"Yeah, no need. Those new missiles of theirs pack a Godzilla-sized wallop, pal, and we won't survive another strike. We're DOA without the Defence Shield." he looked to Tactical.

"I am on it!" and Hawk bolted for the Station.

"You'll need power!" replied Buck and he staggered to his feet and made for the Engineering console at the back of the Bridge, stepping round the prone crew members as he went, trying with all his mite not to check to see who was alive and who was...

...dead...

_Wilma?_ he glanced toward the starboard bulkhead as he reached the Engineering Station and stepped behind it's controls, which were thankfully still lit.

The lady Colonel was where he had left her and for a long agonizing second Buck stared at her slumped, face-down body in trepidation, as it appeared she was completely still, which could possibly mean-but then Deering quivered slightly and her left foot twitched! Buck thrilled internally and thanked God Almighty for the miracle.

_I owe ya big-time, Big Guy,_ Buck grinned, then focused all his attention on the console, his hands darted across it in a rush, searching for any power he could find anywhere aboard their disabled starship.

_Are Hawk and I the only ones left awake? he scowled to himself, Yeah, probably-_

"Unbelievable! Just unbelievable!" intoned the last voice he wanted to hear at the moment, and Crichton levered his long contoured body up on his smaller arm appendages and extended his broom-shaped head, "Why have I not received assistance? Am I not the most essential member of this crew? Why have I been rudely ignored!"

"Maybe 'cause everybody was enjoying not hearing your annoying voice for once." snarled Buck, and the robot's head rotated in his direction.

"Captain Rogers," the orange and green bars of light that denoted Crichton's vocalizations strobed, "that is not the Station assigned to you."

"Yeah, well, the guy who's supposed to be running it is taking a nap. Why don't you follow his example, chrome-dome? Hawk and I are trying to prevent our total destruction."

"No need to be curt, Captain." and Crichton finally managed to stand, an impressive feat, and he panned his artificial gaze back-and-forth.

"The Bridge is in shambles! What has happened to the crew?"

"Will you please be silent!" snapped Hawk as he fought with the Tactical controls.

"I am only making a logical assessment." replied the imperious robot as he stared at the Master Screen, "I have determined that your current course is futile. We three should abandon ship in the life pods."

"The rat wants to flee the sinking ship, huh." Buck shook his head in disgust.

"The situation appears hopeless, Captain. And there is only time to save ourselves."

"The operative word in that statement is 'appears'." said Hawk, "We are attempting to improve our situation, automaton."

_But perhaps the cloying robot is correct,_ the Bird-Man scowled, _because I cannot get the Shield to reinitialize. So even if Buck finds enough power to feed into it, there won't be a field to put it in..._

He pounded the controls in frustration, "It's not working!"

"Can't get it up, Hawk?" asked Buck.

"No!"

"But you have to! I think I've located enough power!"

"I wish I could, Rogers, but the Shield buffers will not respond."

Buck looked back to the screen and his eyes went wide.

"No!"

But it was true, the Draconians had reached maximum firing range and with a quartet of flares they unleashed the last of their missiles.

Buck shut his eyes and swallowed hard, "Oh well, it was a good try."

"Indeed." replied Hawk, and together they watched the devastating projectiles swarm in...

**To be continued...**


	4. Part IV

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part IV - Devil Incarnate **

_On the Bridge of EFS Searcher..._

Hawk stood over the useless Tactical Station, taut arms flat to his sides in frustration, as he and Buck Rogers stared across the deck to the Master Screen at the four missiles that had just been unleashed by their enemy.

The Marauders peeled off as they had done before, eager to be out of range of what was to be a fantastic explosion, most likely ten times that of the last one, for when _Searcher_ blew, the Plasma Core powering her would go with her, causing a huge detonation.

Buck had dashed down to the Helm at the first sight of the rockets being unleashed and had managed to power up their low-speed maneuvering engines and in a blast of thrusters he had righted _Searcher_, more or less, and sent them shooting backwards. It wasn't the fantastic speed they would have gotten from their twin Plasma thrust tubes if the Core had been operational, but it was fast enough to buy them perhaps another sixty seconds of life before the faster missiles managed to catch up to them.

_Every second counts,_ scowled Buck as the deck rumbled beneath his booted feet, _I don't go quietly, if you wanna execute me, bub, you gotta drag me kicking and screaming all the way down to Hell!_

But despite their attempt at retreat, the missile's impact was less then a minute away from happening now, this Captain Rogers knew very well. Once again he stared down the barrel of the gun, and once again his extremely sharp survival instinct fought to find a solution to the problem, one that he had been overlooking, one that was perhaps beyond his ken-beyond his ken!

_If the answer you seek appears beyond you, then seek out an intellect greater then your own!_

Buck swung his gaze back to Crichton who was selfishly pushing an unconscious crewman out of the way so he could get to the lift and leave the Bridge, most likely bound for the life pods, a destination the tall robot had no chance of making it to, but that was the way the egomaniacal construct thought.

_But it's not the way I think!_ Buck grinned darkly as he charged back to the Engineering Station and with a blur of his fingertips he entered a command into the board, shutting down the lift.

"What?" the robot gaped as the doors to his escape refused to open, "What is the meaning of this! Turn the lift back on!"

"Not a chance! You aren't going anywhere, bolts." snapped Rogers, "You're trapped here like us!"

"What is the meaning of this!" demanded Crichton, his neck extending to it's highest point, indicating his rage at such foul mistreatment.

"What it means is, Sparky, is that you had better get yourself over to Hawk's console and interface with it, or bond with it telekinetically, or magically repair it, whatever it is you do, and do it FAST! Else you're gonna go Ba-Boom with the rest of us in about forty seconds."

"I-I refuse! This is blackmail, Captain!"

"Yep. It is. And you've got thirty-seven seconds now, I think."

The robot looked to the Master Screen, then back to Rogers, and Buck could swear he could smell him fuming, then Crichton rolled a fast as he could to the Tactical Station and raising his left arm jacked it into the waiting port.

"Hurry!" urged Hawk beside him.

"One cannot rush sheer genius." snapped the robot haughtily, "This requires precision tuning and the creation of a variety of bypass subroutines-"

"Then do it, Crichton!" growled Buck, his eyes glued to the Screen as the rockets got closer-and-closer.

"I am endeavouring to do so, Captain. I can converse with you, my blackmailer, without losing any processing time. In fact, I am able to-"

"NOBODY CARES!" shouted Buck.

"You are far too touchy." sniffed Crichton, "There, I am done."

"He is!" grinned Hawk as the required portions of the console lit-up. He typed furiously and the buffers came back online, "Buck-"

"Way ahead of ya!" and _Searcher_'s maneuvering engines quit, the lights dimmed to just battery levels, and even the low thrum of the atmospheric vents died away.

"Transferring all available power!"

"Receiving it!" replied Hawk, "Channelling it!"

"Do it fast! 'Cause here they-"

"DONE!"

"-come!"

_WHAM! BOOOOM! _the starship bucked madly, Buck and Hawk clung to their Stations to stay aloft, while Crichton, who had just detached himself from Tactical and headed back to try and override the lift controls, was sent sliding backwards across the deck and nearly fell over again, if it wasn't for a console he managed to clamp onto, halting his flight.

_Is this the end of the greatest mind the galaxy has ever seen? _the robot pondered internally.

But a moment later it was all over and amazingly they were all still there.

"Yes!" beamed Buck and Hawk nodded back at him in triumph.

"The Defence Shield held." reported the Bird-Man, "With the energy you provided I was able to more then double it's strength over the last time, and the impact of all four missiles have been countered."

"How much power do we have left?" demanded Buck.

"Let me see..." Hawk studied his readings, "Almost nothing. The Shield is barely at 2 percent."

"Then transfer it back." Buck said and his friend did so. He reactivated the Environmental units and returned power to the lift.

"Excellent!" said Crichton as the controls lit-up again, "Now I can make my escape."

"Nope. Now that the ship is defenceless, Hawk and I need to do something about those Draconians. So you're staying right here." Buck jogged past him and into the opening lift car, followed by Hawk. He slapped the controls.

"But-"

"No buts about it. As much as I hate the idea, Crichton, you're in command for now. So use the medical kit and wake up anybody you can."

"This is intolerable!" the bot's indicator lights strobed in fury, "I refuse!"

Hawk shrugged to say he didn't give a crap, "Yeah, well, that's too bad, bub, 'cause I transfered only enough power into the lift for it to make one trip down. See ya on the flip-side, Rusty." and the lift doors slid shut and they were gone.

"I do not deserve to be treated like this!" raged the robot as it turned back around to glare at the silent Bridge.

_My intellect should be revered and given the greatest social and environmental problems of our times to solve, but what am I relegated to? Playing nursemaid to a band of gibbering fools..._

But Crichton sighed and gave in, then rolled off for the port-side lockers where the medical kit was stored...

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_Beyond _Searcher_'s twisted and pitted hull, out in space..._

"I don't understand! Why are they still there?" the bearded Draconian squadron leader pounded mailed fists on the board of his Hatchet-Fighter, "Those missiles should have completely destroyed them, they should be space dust!"

"Sir!" said his wing-man over the comlink, "I think they managed to get their Shield back up. They must have boosted it's power some how."

Lt. Bonengel dialled up his nose cone camera and zoomed in on the Earthling's starship and saw that all her running lights were off now, and her portals were dark. White clouds of atmosphere funnelled out of the breaches in her hull in milky swirls.

_So, she may have managed to fend off our thermax-graded projectiles, but it cost them the last of their energy. They are completely defenceless now!_

"Ready your blaster cannons! We will carve them up like a roasted Zekkdron lizard!" and he sent his Marauder jetting forward on a third and guaranteed to be final attack run, the other three members of of his squadron falling into place after him.

_That foul Earthling craft shall BURN this day even if I have to personally drive my fighter prow-first into her side!_

But Bonengel's glare narrowed through his acceleration goggles at the sight of two smaller vessels exiting from _Searcher_'s forward docking bay in a flare of engines. He didn't recognize the configuration of the first craft, but the second one he knew very well.

"They ARE from Earth!" he yelled into his comlink, "That's an Earth Defence Directorate starfighter!"

A cruel smile curled his lips, "I get it! They have been away for months, if not more. And they think we're flying the same old class of Marauders. Hah!"

He received echoing laughs from the other pilots.

"Oh, are they in for a shock. A shock, yes indeed."

And Lt. Bonengel altered his trajectory to intercept, eager to make the first kill...

**To be continued...**


	5. Part V

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part V - Eyes Like a Hawk**

_On the outer edge of the Sol System..._

The squadron of four Hatchet-Fighters raced across the ebony gap toward the disabled starship _Searcher_, and from the darkened depths of the Earth vessel's hanger bay shot two fighters, both eager to take the battle back to the Draconians.

In the lead came a one-of-a-kind Avian-Class attackship. Uniquely configured in the form of a massive bird-of-prey, her silvered hull was sleek, catching the rays of the distant sun on her port wing in a dazzle of sunshine. At the controls of the deadly vessel was Hawk, and his stark visage was a mask of focused concentration.

Behind him came the forked prow of a Thunder-Class starfighter. The backbone of the Earth Defence Directorate's space force, it was a technological achievement that had yet to meet it's match. Perhaps Hawk's Avian was it's superior in combat, but the definitive battle had yet to be fought.

The Bird-Man's piloting ability was legendary, his well honed skill set boosted by the natural flight instinct of a thousand generations of his race who proceeded his existence. But if ever there was a human who could hope to equal him behind the controls of a starfighter, it was Captain William 'Buck' Rogers.

"You get the big one, pal," said Buck over their personal channel, "while I get the ugly one."

"_Their vessels are identical, Earth Man._" replied Hawk in confusion, "_And there are four of them, not two._"

"Just an old joke."

"_Ah. Perhaps we had better focus on defeating them._"

"Whatever floats your boat, Hawk old buddy. But they're Draconians, their maneuvers are slow, this will be easy. They may have caught _Searcher_ off-guard and nailed her with some lucky missile shots, but now they're playing on my court, and the advantage is ours."

"_If you say so._"

"You betcha I do. This'll be a piece of cake!" and Buck jacked up the speed and weaving around Hawk's ship he shot forward to meet the first Marauder.

There was no hesitation on his part, he was out for blood, his thumb drilled onto his control stick's trigger stud, sending twin blazing-yellow beams flying for the leader.

_If they get past us it's curtains for Wilma and the others, so that ain't gonna happen!_

But to his surprise the Marauder banked in a rush and his opening barrage missed. The other Draconians had dodged as well so the blast missed them as well.

_Huh,_ he scowled, _so they've been practising while I've been gone. Good for them..._

"_I thought this was supposed to be a 'piece of cake'._" reproached Hawk over the link.

"Okay, so maybe it'll be a bit of a challenge. You're up for that, right?"

"_Always!_" and Hawk shot into the fray in a blaze of yellow plasma energy from his cannon, and the beam lashed across the narrowing gap and scored a hit on the starboard wing of one of the Marauders.

"_Hah! First blood, as you Earthlings call it!_"

"Go get'em, Hawk!" rallied Buck as he sent his starfighter into a tight barrel spin. Stars whirled around his cockpit, then he pulled out of it with a blast of thrusters and rose up behind a Marauder of his own. He weaved under a wave of enemy fire and another Hatchet-Fighter soared over him from port. But he managed to hold onto his position behind the first Marauder and dogged it as it soared downwards, it's engines blazing like twin suns.

It swung back-and-forth through his crosshairs and Buck leaned in, eyes narrowing for the kill shot. Then he had them, his thumb nailed the trigger and xanthic death shot from his cannons. The blast struck the rear of the Draconian and it shook and sparks flew. But it didn't explode.

_Why didn't it explode?!_ Buck's mind whirled at the possibilities. _Uh-oh, this is not good, not good at ALL!_

"_Rogers!_" his alien wing-man yelled over the line, "_These ships are incredibly sturdy! I have nailed one twice with my weapons, yet it still flies intact. They are fearsome adversaries indeed!_"

"Time to get creative!" Rogers told him, then kicked in the afterburners and sent his starfighter surging forward. He hedge-hopped overtop his Marauder and dropped into it's sites, turning himself from the hunter into the hunted.

"_Buck!_" shouted Hawk, "_What are you doing?! Have you gone mad?_"

"Mad with a thirst for revenge, yeah! You do your thing, pal, and I'll do mine!" and he whipped his fighter up and to starboard, blasting thrusters at max release, sending himself into an incredibly tight turn.

The Marauder on his tail blasted shot-after-shot after Buck and he weaved and banked, but stayed on the course he'd created in his mind, the instinctive geometry the United States Air Force had drilled into him five centuries earlier whirling inside his skull, spitting out instant vector alterations like the mind of a champion Major League Baseball pitcher preparing to throw a perfect knuckle ball. The fuselage of Buck's starfighter howled at the tremendous pressure, but he stayed on course, knowing he was mere moments from straying into a perfect targeting lock, but this was his only chance so he kept going, bending over the controls, the stick in his white-knuckled grip bending into it's gears so hard it was threatening to break, then the Marauder achieved it's lock, the goatee'd Draconian grinned in triumph and squeezed the trig--Buck threw his ship down with everything he had and the enemy pilot was suddenly nose-to-nose with ANOTHER hatchet-fighter! Buck had lured them into a game of chicken and neither of the Draconians had even realized it until

_BAAA-BOOOOM!_

They crashed into each other and went up in a tremendous explosion!

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall!" grinned Rogers as he looped up-and-over the expanding orange-yellow fireball, then levelled out and headed after the two remaining Marauders.

Or one, actually, as he was just in time to bear witness to Hawk's Avian executing her most devastating maneuver. The bird-ship had gotten above one of the Marauders, who hadn't cared since Hawk's vessel had forward-firing weaponry. But from the undercarriage of the Avian twin landing legs had extended, with wicked claws hooking down at the Hatchet-Fighter. Hawk dropped his ship onto the Draconian and the Talons speared into it on either side of the cockpit, biting into the wings.

"Yeah!" cheered Buck as the Talons raked backwards and up and tore both wings right off the Hatchet-Fighter in a terrific wrenching of metal!

Hawk shot up and away from the Marauder, leaving it less then half what it used to be. With it's wings had gone it's thrusters and now it was just a bullet racing across space, trailing sparks and leaking atmosphere, but only for another thirty seconds as Buck was on it now and soaring up on it's port side he laid into it with his blasters, targeting the exposed section where the left wing used to be.

With no upgraded armor to protect it, the Draconian fighter went up like a firecracker! Buck looped away and sent Hawk his compliments over the line.

"_Our victory is not yet complete, Rogers._" replied the Bird-Man.

"Gotcha." said Buck as he dropped into position beside the Avian, and together they set off after the final Marauder.

But the Hatchet-Fighter's pilot wasn't stupid, he knew when he was beat, and he banked to starboard and flipped his craft end-over-end, coming out of the maneuver facing the opposite direction. His engines flared and he shot away.

"Coward!" shouted Hawk, "You shall not escape!" and he accelerated to full speed, following in hot pursuit.

"Wait!" called Buck over the comlink, "_Searcher_ has to be protected!"

"You do that!" sent back his friend, "And while you are, I will make sure this Draconian does not survive long enough to report back to his superiors! I have intercepted his communications frequency and am jamming it."

Buck frowned, but Hawk was right. They needed as much time as they could buy by right now. If that Marauder got away it would probably come back with ten times it's number at least, and _Searcher_ was in no state to mount a proper defence, far from it.

"Okay. Good hunting!"

"Indeed." replied Hawk and he cut the channel. His Avian vanished into the distance, while Buck reluctantly turned his starfighter around and headed it back to _Searcher_.

But his gaze narrowed as he saw something small jetting toward the listing starship. He brought up his Scanners and zoomed in, gaped in amazement.

"How in the--that's not possible!"

But it was. A figure in a self-contained flightsuit was completing a final maneuver with his rocket belt. Buck recognized his uniform, it was one of the Draconian pilots!

_It must be the one Hawk stripped of it's wings!_ Buck's mind spun. _He must have ejected just as I fired upon him! Damn!_

With one last blast of blue belt thrusters, the Draconian pilot shot into _Searcher_'s hanger bay. He landed hard, rolled across the darkened deck, then his magnetic boots made contact and he jerked to a halt. He staggered up onto his feet in the weak gravity and spotted the nearest airlock and set off for it, heavy heels clanking across the grilled deck plates. He reached the lock and slapped the controls, then ducked inside, the portal slid shut behind him and air poured automatically into the chamber.

He studied the control panel carefully, then found the key he was looking for and stabbed it. And back in the Docking Bay the outside doors slid shut, blocking any exterior access, including that of Buck Rogers, still en-route back to _Searcher_ in his Thunder-Class starfighter.

A moment later the Draconian infiltrator was passing through the inner airlock door, energy pistol out and ready to gun-down any Earthlings or otherwise that dared to get in his way.

_I shall make good on my oath_, Lieutenant Bonengel grinned as he took off down the corridor, _this wretched Earth ship shall burn!_

**To be continued...**


	6. Part VI

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part VI - Face the Music**

_On the Bridge of the Earth deep space exploration ship _Searcher_..._

With a hiss of the hypodermic, the stimulant flooded the system of Colonel Wilma Deering and within moments she was surging back up to reality and sat up moaning.

"Uhhhh..." she rubbed at her throbbing skull, "Th-Thanks, Buck. What's our st-status?"

"You do not have Captain Rogers to thank for your return to consciousness, Colonel Deering, but instead I." declared a domineering voice and Wilma's brow furrowed deeply. _Oh no, anybody but him. He is never going to let me live this down..._

She cracked her eyes and beheld the towering shape of Dr. Goodfellow's 'crowning' achievement in robotics, the super-brained rolling automaton known as

"Crichton," glared Deering as she stared up at him, "quit hovering and get out of the way so I can get up!"

"No good deed goes unpunished." sniffed the chromed bot and wheeling back he turned around and headed off, "Really, I am beginning to come to the conclusion that this galaxy would be much better off if a vastly superior intellect like my own was completely in charge. Embarrassing incidents like today's ugly events would never happen under my watchful eye."

"I'll keep that in mind." Wilma rolled her eyes as she climbed up onto rubber knees and surveyed the ruins of the command deck. She frowned at the crew who were all still out of it.

_I'm the only one conscious? Where is Hawk and Buck?_

She looked to the Master Screen but it was dark, so she sighed and reluctantly turned to face the only source of new information she had.

"Crichton! Report!"

"I am not under your authority, Colonel."

"Oh, yes you are! I'm _Searcher_'s Second Officer and you will obey all my commands."

"I am not a member of the Earth Defence Directorate, nor any of the many other obsolete Directorate's you humans have invented to badly micromanage your own meaningless affairs."

"I will have Dr. Goodfellow deactivate you, Crichton, if you continue to act like this!"

"He cannot. I have disabled all human access to my subroutines." and the robot finished downloading into the Engineering console and the lift's indicators lit-up. He spun about and headed into it.

Deering gaped after him, "Wha--Where are you going?! Crichton!"

"I had decided a long time ago then once we made it back to Earth I was going to disembark and go my own way. I have grown tired of you inferior organics and your cloying, simpering ways."

"We aren't back on Earth yet, you tin-plated idiot!" she made to charge the lift.

"Since you bumbling humans have managed to bungle even a simple task like making it back to Earth, I will endeavour to find a way to complete the journey on my own." and the doors moved to close, "Farewell, Colonel. I shant miss you." and then he was gone.

"Unbelievable!" Deering raged at the empty Bridge, her red-throbbing face and balled fists making her appear ready to explode.

"_Problem, Wilma?_" came Captain Rogers voice from her neck.

The comlink!

She turned back to face the blank Master Screen and tapped the pip clipped to her uniform collar, "Buck! Where are you!"

"_Outside the ship in my starfighter._"

"What? How!"

"_Hawk and I were forced to leave you guys behind in the questionable hands of Crichton_-"

"And thank-you for that." she growled.

"_The old pop machine giving you grief, huh?_"

"You have no idea, Buck. He abandoned me!"

"_No time to worry about that, Wilma. We have much bigger fish to fry._"

She blinked in confusion, "Fish to...fry?"

"_Nevermind! Look, Hawk and I managed to destroy three of the Marauders_-"

"Great!"

"_Yeah, it was a piece of cake. Well, not really, 'cause the Draconians seem to have upgraded their hull armor, not to mention the power of their ship-to-ship missiles_-"

"Buck! Get to the point!"

_"Right! Sorry! Okay, Hawk is gone. He took off in pursuit of the fourth Marauder in an attempt to keep it from reporting in. But one of the Draconian pilots survived me blowing his ship to smithereens and he's managed to jet aboard _Searcher_!_"

"What?!" Deering's stomach twisted.

"_Yep! He's aboard right now, Wilma, and most likely isn't there to sell Girl Scout Cookies. And he closed the Hanger Bay doors, keeping me from getting back in._"

"You're trapped out there?"

"_Uh-huh. Wilma, you--ave to--I-----keep him from----you there? Wil_-" and with a final crackle of static the channel broke.

"Buck? Buck!" she stabbed the comlink again-and-again, but got nothing.

_The line is jammed! It must be the Draconian. He couldn't have brought a jammer onboard with him, so he has to be doing it with our own equipment. Which means he must be in Communications!_

Wilma spun on her heal and dashed for the lift, but it didn't open at her approach and she halted scowling, slapped at it's controls. _But it wasn't receiving any power, it was dead. And so will we all be if I don't find our intruder and stop him! He's going to destroy the ship, that's for sure!_

She jammed her fingers between the doors and with a grunt pried them apart, then peered down into the yawning rectangular abyss of the lift shaft. _It's never easy, not for one second. But then what would be the point of life it was?_

"There wouldn't be any!" Colonel Deering declared and she sprang across the shaft and caught hold of the rungs there. Gripping the utility ladder firmly, she began her rapid descent into the darkness.

Back on the Bridge, the slight shape of a silver-finished Ambuquad finally managed to heave the chunk of ceiling debris off of himself and sat up, shaking his molded head to straighten out his visual receptors.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" gawked Twiki at the silent command deck, "Where'd everybody go?! Awww, they've abandoned me."

*** * * * ***

_Six levels below..._

"Hey! You there!" shouted a voice and Lieutenant Bonengel looked up from his work on the exposed console.

Two humans emerged from the darkness of the Communications Bay, glaring at him, "This area is off-limits, who are you--he's Draconian!" and the man and woman halted in surprise.

"Yes! I am! And you are dead!" the blaster was out of his holster in a blur and Bonengel fired, catching them both in the chest with deadly energy beams. They hurtled backwards and went down, smoke spiralling up from the mortal wounds.

Bonengel grinned, then holstering his pistol he turned back to his work. And a minute later he was done.

"It will take them a week to undue the mess I have made here and call for outside help. But all I will need is less then an hour to blow the ship back to the Earthling hell that spawned it."

"You won't even get that, Draconian!" growled a voice on the other side of the room, and Bonengel spun round fast to face it and saw a tall, trim woman in a dark blue Officer's uniform. His pistol flashed from his hip in a blur and they faced each other in a Mexican stand-off.

"Drop your weapon, Earthling!" he glared through his goggled eyes.

"You first! I'm shooting to kill!"

Bonengel cocked his head in surprise, "You--You are Colonel Deering!"

"One and the same." Wilma glared down the barrel of her out-flung Type-2 Directorate pulsar pistol, "So you know what I'm capable of! Surrender right now or you aren't leaving this room alive!"

"You are the one whose life is about to cease to be, Colonel." sneered the Draconian, "Because you have made a fatal mistake."

"I have, have I?" she glared at him scathingly.

"Yes! You assumed I wasn't prepared to be interrupted by one such as you."

Wilma's brow furrowed in confusion, prepared? _What is he going on...about...?_ And her eyes spun fast about her and alighted on a hex-shaped device of obvious Draconian manufacture that was stuck to the wall just inside the door. _Damn!_

She whipped about and sprang back out the doorway, just as Bonengel raised the rod-shaped device in his other hand and thumbed it's red-glowing button. _BA-BOOOOOOM!_ the charge detonated, ripping the exit to shreds and sending a huge fireball tearing down the corridor after the Colonel!

The Draconian was already long gone, headed for the other way out of the Communications Bay, as the shockwave caught up to the racing Wilma Deering and lifted her off her feet and sent her hurtling down the passageway, she bowled end-over-end, her expert Defence Directorate training instinctively rolling her into a tight ball, she crashed to deck in a hail of spinning metal and flaming bulkhead chunks, rolled hard and fetched up against the wall, landing in a gasping heap.

Wilma sat up groaning and slapped out the flames burning the left arm of her uniform tunic, then winced at the pain shooting through her hip. She looked down and saw a twisted piece of shrapnel sticking out of her upper leg.

_Great, just great..._

She tried to stand but couldn't, the agony was too much. She slumped back down and gripped the smoking piece of metal sticking out of her, grit her teeth and shut her eyes, then pulled on it.

And nearly screamed at the top of her lungs!

"Uhhhhhh...." her head lulled as the deck spun beneath her, and then Wilma blacked out.

And from the next corridor, Lt. Bonengel stepped from the darkness, having backtracked to see how his booby-trap had fared. He sneered down at the unconscious form of the shapely female Colonel and with oily movement slid a knife from his belt, knelt over her and pressed it against the flesh of her throat.

"So much for the fabled Wilma Deering." he caressed the supple flesh of her neck with the wicked blade, positioning the razor-sharp tip directly over her jugular vein, then prepared to push it deep.

"Congratulations, human, you get to die in your sleep." he stared down the length of Wilma Deering's prone body, taking in the curve of her breasts and hips with lustful relish. "If I only I had time to properly appreciate you, I would roughly show you why Draconian males are superior to their human counterparts in every way."

He frowned and pried his eyes from the cream-hued plume of Deering's slowly rising cleavage, then returned his sneer to her angelic face. He fingered the knife and prepared to strike.

"A parting gift of unexpected mercy from the Draconian Dynasty, Colonel, for very soon the rest of your wretched crew shall die screaming as their rust-bucket of a starship explodes around them."

And with a laugh, Bonengel upped the knife's hilt and stabbed downwards...

**To be continued...**


	7. Part VII

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part VII - Gone Baby Gone**

_Flying through space at unbelievably speeds..._

Last of it's four vessel patrol squadron, the Draconian Hatchet-Fighter fled across the ebony cosmos, and the bird-ship of the bold warrior called Hawk followed in close pursuit.

Aboard his one-of-a-kind sleek winged Avian-Class, the hook-nosed alien hunched over the cockpit controls, razor-sharp eyes locked on the projected image of the fleeing craft as it weaved back-and-forth across his targeting sites, it's pilot doing everything he could to avoid his predator getting a lock.

_Come to me, my enemy,_ glared Hawk as his gauntleted fist gripped his bird-headed control stick, his thumb hovering menacingly overtop the firing stud which would unleash xanthic death upon his target with barely a stroke. _Long have we duelled across the endless nocturne of empty space, but now...now your end draws NIGH!_

Hawk's lips pursed in concentration as his bird-shaped craft closed on the Draconian's, as it's top speed was faster then it, if only slightly. But it was enough, and he was confident the chase would soon be over and victory would be his!

The Draconian had tried every trick in the book to lose Hawk during the last nerve-wracking twenty minutes, but to no avail, he couldn't even begin to shake him.

_What manner of being IS this that hunts me?! _the swarthy pilot Jhelun gawked in terror at the rear-facing image glowing up at him from his flight board. The bizarre vessel with it's beak-shaped prow crawled ever-closer and the rolling and banking he'd been doing for what seemed like an eternity now were starting to make him queasy.

_What am I to do?! _ The Draconian Private's mind whirled beneath his heavy helmet. _His jamming package is much too powerful, I cannot breach the interference no matter what I do. And so I cannot get a message back to the star fortress! Which is meaningless anyway, because if I come back without the rest of my squadron, reporting that the returning Earth vessel still exists, that we failed to destroy it despite the overwhelming tactical edge in our favor, then I will be executed on the spot! Despite the fact that it's not my fault! Lieutenant Bonengel is to blame, not I! His overconfidence cost him and my fellow pilots their ships and their lives!_

_And now Bonengel's incompetence shall lead me to my own demise, either later at the hands of the Dynasty for failing them, or within the very next minute if this bird-like ship dogging my every move finally locks onto my fuselage and blows my vessel to the stars!_

At that moment Private Jhelun's complex banking maneuver faltered and he wavered for a half-a-second too long in the Avian's crosshairs, Hawk stabbed the trigger and a yellow pulsar beam joined the two craft beak-to-fuselage for a devastating second!

Flame sizzled and plating crackled, and the only thing that saved the Draconian from going up like his three compatriots was the heightened armor that had recently been installed. So instead blowing sky-high, he just lost an engine in a shower of aft-flying carbonized particles that whirred and deflected off of Hawk's canopy a moment later. He blinked, momentarily blinded, and fought quickly to compensate, but Private Jhelun hadn't been the last of his squadron to survive for nothing; he actually had some natural piloting skill and had been top of his class at the Draconian Fight Academy.

In the few free moments he had as his ship rocked-and-rumbled from the hit, his goggled eyes saw his pursuer's own weaving to regain control and his trained hands and feet instantly reacted! His booted feet slammed pedals and he yanked back HARD on his stick! His Marauder dived fast and space whirled around him maniacally, he was thrown back into his chair, the air went shooting out through his grit teeth, then he pushed the stick back and his fighter levelled out, rising into position directly BEHIND the Bird-Ship!

"NOW I HAVE YOU!" he railed at his enemy in triumph.

And he might have, if it wasn't for the Moon.

Almost at the same moment, proximity alarms sounded in either cockpit and both pilots snapped out of their combat fugue and retasked their Scanners, expanding the range to the max. They both saw it instantly, it was impossible to miss now, and they threw their sticks downwards one-after-another, the noses of their crafts jerked upwards and they rose up out of their twin dives toward the grey rocky surface!

_What is this?!_ Hawk's mind raged as his Bird-Ship rocketed overtop the jagged terrain of grey rock, while his exhaust kicked up a cloud of grit a kilometer high in his wake. _Rogers did not mention Earth had a satellite! I nearly collided with it, how big is it?_

He skimmed the Scanner screen while his fighter skimmed the surface of the planetoid, and saw that it was massive. His gaze returned forward and his eyes went wide, the Marauder had vanished!

_What?! Where did it go?_

There was nothing on the Scanner and he panned his sharp gaze back-and-forth but could not catch site of his prey. How could it just up and vanish so quickly? There had been no warning.

Hawk activated a topographic scan and expanded it back along their path. A moment later he spotted it, a large crater that he had flashed past probably in less then a second, but the Draconian must have ducked inside it to hide.

"No matter," the Bird-Man scowled savagely and sent his ship winging to starboard in a flare of thrusters, vectoring at a sheer angle just ten meters above the Moon's surface.

The crater loomed in the distance and he levelled out, kicked in the engines and surged forward toward the attack. He hunched over the controls and readied a thermal charge, all the while keeping his pulsar cannon ready. If the Marauder stayed down in the crater to avoid being sniped then he'd bomb the devil out with the deadly charge!

His scowl morphed into a dark grin, "Victory once again goes to Hawk-" but he broke-off his oath as NINE enemy fighters rose up out of the crater in a flare of thrusters.

"HOW?!" Hawk shouted as he attempted desperately to dodge.

As one unit they opened up with their blaster cannons, Private Jhelun's Hatchet-Fighter in the center of the line of Draconians, grinning madly with vengeance as they unleashed their deadly barrage!

Six paired energy beams missed the Avian as it banked in a rush to port, while the the rest struck her underside. Flame broiled across the hull of the Bird-Ship and a pulsar blast ripped through the high-tipped port wing and slagged out the top! Explosions rocked the fighter and it spiralled out of control, soaring first high into the vacuum, then nosing back down, corkscrewing toward the surface trailing a contrail of grey smoke.

In the cockpit, fat red sparks flew and alarms of all kinds klaxoned. Hawk fought to regain control with everything he had, but it was to no avail and the surface of the Moon rose up rapidly to meet him.

_So...it ends here,_ the Bird-Man leaned back resolvedly in his pilot's chair as his fighter screamed between two rising peaks of grey rock and plummeted into a deep valley at a steep angle.

He stared up through the cockpit glass at the distant blue-green marble of Earth. _At least I have seen the birthplace of my people before I pass onto the next stage of spiritual existence. I wish I could have strode her lands, especially Easter Island, home of my race before the Exodus so long ago._

_But it was not to be..._

Hawk shut his eyes and sent a silent prayer to Make-Make, the Great God of the Bird-People, to prepare for his coming, and three seconds later his fighter plowed into the bottom of the lunar gorge.

**To be continued...**


	8. Part VIII

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Timeless Dream**

**Part VIII - Hard as Nails**

_On _Searcher_'s fifth level..._

Lieutenant Bonengel, Lancer Prime-Class of the Draconian Dynasty's Marauder Corps, crouched on the smoke-filled deck over Colonel Wilma Deering, as she lay prone amongst the steaming remains of the Communications Bay door frame.

Bonengel's face was cruelly eager as he swung back his knife then drove it down for her jugular vein, and that would have been the end of the valiant Earth Defence Directorate Officer, if it wasn't for the jagged bolt of blue energy that lashed out and struck the Draconian's arm and sent his aim jerking wild.

The knife slammed into the bulkhead an inch from Wilma's ear and the blade broke off.

"What...?!" Bonengel whirled about on his bent knees and beheld the person who had DARED to interfere with his righteous kill.

But it wasn't a person.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" growled the miniscule Ambuquad, "Leave Wilma alone, bub!"

Bonengel's shocked expression turned to a mocking grin, "A drone?! A drone! HAH! You think you can stand against a Draconian warrior of the first order?"

And Twiki swung his grasper hand for the pilot's groin, "Bidi-bidi-bidi! I can hold my own, ugly!" and upping the ampage he let loose with the biggest charge possible.

Bonengel's howl of agony could be heard for five decks.

Wilma's eyes fluttered open and she looked around dumbly for a second, beholding Twiki on her right, blue sparks dancing along the length of his extended armature, while on her left lay the Draconian pilot in a fetal position, groaning in agony.

"Wha--What happened to h-him?" she rasped as she clawed her way up and the wall and onto her feet.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" replied Twiki with relish, "He brought a knife to a gun-fight!"

Deering went for her holster but it was empty, so she looked about for either her pulsar pistol or the Draconian's blaster. Neither were to be found, and then the enemy pilot climbed to his feet, face still pulsating with wicked pain. Twiki snapped up his grasper and a fresh charge spangled to aqua life between the two flat digits that doubled as fingers for the Ambuquad.

"Another time, drone!" Bonengel glared down at his nemesis, then he turned on his heel and took off at a run.

"Any time, anywhere, mack!" spat back Twiki, "Bidi-bidi-bidi!"

Wilma moved to chase after the fleeing Draconian, but winced at the shrapnel still protruding from her hip and halted before she could take two steps.

"Uhhh! I have to get this seen to. Twiki, can you help me to Medical?"

The drone agreed and they set off, while Wilma tapped at her collar comlink, searching desperately for somebody to assist in stopping their intruder, but it looked like the only other crewmembers other then her who had managed to stay awake during _Searcher_'s crushing spiral out of control had been the two that Bonengel had gunned down back in Communications.

But, that wasn't exactly true, as four decks below on the opposite side of the ship, a lone Thunder-Class starfighter lay perched vertical on the hull, it's own ventral fuselage pressed flat against the larger vessel, magnetically-anchored by the extended landing legs.

It's pilot was crouched low between the two folded-up chairs and with one last blast from his plasma torch his work was complete. He raised a boot and slammed it downwards, knocking a meter-wide chunk of the hull free. It clanged down onto _Searcher_'s ninth level and Captain William Rogers sprang through, spinning in the air for a long second as the difference in artificial gravity between the fighter and _Searcher_ sorted things out, then he landed on the deck, boots splayed, pulsar pistol at the ready.

It was no miniscule Type-2 pistol that was gripped in Buck's furious fist, nope, because once they had turned back for Earth he had happily returned those weaker weapons to the Armory and reclaimed the much more imposing Type-6 sidearm that he had strapped for his two year assignment as a pilot for the Earth Defence Directorate. This pulsar pistol was much more imposing, and three times as lethal, a show of force that hadn't been necessary during _Searcher_'s peaceful exploration mission.

But now they were back in their home territory and it seemed things had returned to their usual chaotic ways, what with the return of the supposedly banished Draconians, and gone was the more lenient Buck Rogers, and in his place was what the way too forgiving Earth Federation peaceniks desperately needed to defend themselves from the cruel predatory enemies the galaxy seemed to be producing in droves these days: a rough-and-tumble buckaroo patriot who was quick with his fists and merciless to his enemies.

The 25th Century needed the real Buck Rogers again, and he was eager to oblige!

Seeing that the Draconian wasn't present at his entry point, Buck took off down the corridor at a dead-run, black-shelled weapon held at the ready, and he jammed a thumb against his throat comlink as he thundered through the ship.

"Buck to Wilma! Where are you!"

"_Buck?_" crackled Deering's voice a moment later as he rounded a corner without slowing and rocketed down the next corridor, "_Buck! Where are you? Still floating in space?_"

"Nope! I docked with _Searcher_ and cut my way inside."

"_You did?! That was a chancy thing to do! What if you'd hit an energy conduit? You could have caused an explosion!_"

"The ship is almost out of power, Wilma. Not much chance of that. So where's the intruder?

"_I faced off against him in Communications, but he had the place booby-trapped and I nearly was killed in the resultant explosion_."

"Are you okay?" Buck's lips twisted in fury as he reached the lift and stowing his weapon for a second he jammed his fingers between the doors and began prying them apart.

"_Nothing the ship's Doctor can't fix quickly. By the way, Dr. Goodfellow is also here in Medical and he's doing fine, in case you were wondering._"

"You found him? He's awake?" Buck got through the lift doors and lept across the shaft, catching onto the utility ladder's rungs.

"_He was in his lab, strapped into an acceleration chair. A stimulant brought him around. He's seeing to my leg now._"

"_Hello, Captain!_" came the cheerful voice of the ship's lead Scientist.

"Any line on where the Draconian went?" Buck hesitated on the ladder, unsure whether to go down or up.

"_Last I saw of him it looked like he was making for Engineering._" replied Deering, and Buck could tell she was scowling, "_Best place to destroy the ship._"

"Gotcha!" and loosening his grip on the ladder Rogers slid downwards into the depths, accelerating fast.

"_Buck! Twiki has gone after him too!_"

"He has?" Rogers blinked in surprise.

"_Yes! I tried to stop him, but he was too fast for me. Try and make sure he's okay, if you can. He saved my life._"

"If I don't stop that pilot, it's gonna be the end for a lot more then just Twiki. But sure. Rogers out!" and the comlink cut off as he slid to a quick halt across from the lift exit onto the Engineering deck.

Buck sprang back across the gap, catching onto the railing there, then levered the doors open and--and a blaster beam scalded past him, only his lightning-fast reflexes managed to keep it from ripping a hole in his gut!

He swung back bodily, his back banging up against the lift shaft, feet dangling free over the yawning abyss that terminated five more levels below in a jagged mess of machinery and circuitry.

_Guess I found the Draconian!_

He swung up his free arm and caught onto the railing, levered himself up and got his feet onto the narrow ledge just beneath the half-open lift doors. Another crimson energy blast flashed over his head and scragged against the back of the shaft, the heat made him wince.

_It's a hot time in the old town tonight!_

He let go with his right arm and grabbed the pulsar from his holster, raised it an inch above the deck and fired back blindly once, twice, _three_ blasts of his own in a fanning pattern, then with all his strength he wrenched himself up-and-over and onto the floor of the Engineering level, rolled fast and came up in a crouch, gun at the ready!

Another blast flashed for his face, he ducked to the side and it sizzled past his head, then he was springing up onto his feet and charging forwards like a linebacker, finger churning on the trigger of his pulsar pistol, sending azure blasts back down the corridor at the Draconian, who was forced to dodge back around the corner.

Buck's shots smacked against the bulkhead, missing his target by inches, he charged up a second later and whipped around the turn, weapon at the ready and--and Bonengel had hung back, crouched low, and his own pistol flashed, blasting Buck's gun from his hand! Bonengel swung his aim for Rogers chest, but the temporally-displaced space-cowboy nailed his wrist with a Karate chop, sending the weapon flying down the passage, then he sprang at Bonengel, tackling him hard, and they went down onto the deck in a fury of punching and kicking, rolling over-and-over as they fought like rabid dogs!

They crashed up against the far bulkhead and the Draconian Officer managed to get on top of the Earth man, raised his free right hand and flicked his back-up knife from it's forearm holster with a twist of the wrist, grasped it, then rammed it downwards for Buck!

"DIE, EARTHLING!"

Buck managed to twist his body to the side, but not fast enough, and the knife BURIED itself up to the hilt in his left shoulder.

He howled as blood sprayed and the Draconian cackled in triumph!

"Today you DIE, Captain Rogers!"

**To be continued...**


	9. Part IX

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part IX - Ignorance is Bliss**

_Plunging toward the lunar surface..._

Like vultures descending to alight upon an animal dying in a ferric wasteland, the paired Hatchet-Fighters glided down to land at the foot of the deep gorge, their rust-colored vessels touching down on the only clear plateau for miles.

Their running lights dimmed and with puffs of white atmosphere their cockpits slid back, exposing the pilots to the moon's harsh vacuum. They rose up one-after-another, helmet guards firmly locked in place, and floated out of their cockpits. The pilot on the left was from the double squadron that had come to Private Jhelun's rescue an hour earlier, while the Marauder on the right birthed the original Draconian himself.

Grasping the handholds running down the side of his fighter, Jhelun clawed his way down and levered his legs onto the dusty grey surface of Earth's lone orbiting satellite. With a hum his grav-boots locked on, he let go of his ship and turned about, freed from the near zero-g at last.

Thanks to his gravity-adjusting footwear and the field they projected across his body, he could now move about like he was back on Draconia, and that was just how Jhelun liked it as he stared across the blighted landscape at the distant crashed vessel that had nearly claimed his life so many times during the arduous trip back from the outer rim of the Sol System.

_No way did that son of an Earth dog survive that crash landing,_ he glared, but he drew his sidearm nonetheless as he and the other Private set off across the valley floor, while the endless night of outer space curved overhead, an infinite number of glimmering diamonds beaming down upon their crimson-and-gold flightsuits as they tramped across the down-sloping terrain.

"What manner of Earth craft is that?" asked Rohann, the other Private, as they closed on the downed vessel.

"I don't know." scowled Jhelun as they rounded it's port side and stared at the back of the fighter's wing, "It resembles a _Vossken_ dive-falcon, doesn't it?"

Rohann paused for a second and stooped to study a line of symbols inscribed along the fuselage. His brow furrowed beneath his polarized helmet guard, "Wait a minute. This seems sort of fam-" he was cut-off by a boot which seemed to swing out of nowhere and catch him in the throat! He gargled in agony and was knocked off his feet.

Disconnected from the Moon's surface, his field no longer provided proper gravity and he shot away like a bullet, as from the dorsal side of the wing a figure in black armor sprang down to land before the shocked Jhelun.

"Wha--How!?" he gaped and swung his weapon for the alien figure.

But the being had a gravity field of his own and he swung a kick up and sent the pistol flying from Jhelun's grip, it flew high and vanished into space, then his attacker's own pistol snapped up, pointed between the Private's eyes.

Hawk sighted down the length of the wicked-looking blaster, "Are you the one I tracked all the way back to Earth, Draconian?"

"Y-Yes!" stammered Jhelun, "But how?! How did you survive? Your descent speed was fantastic!"

"I credit the sturdiness of my fighter's construction, plus the angle of the valley floor." glared Hawk through the transparent guard of his own helmet, "If not for a few generic engine components that were crushed during the crash, my Avian would be aloft as we speak, hunting for vengeance in payment for your treacherous move."

Then his sneer became a smile of victory, "But there is no need of that, Draconian, as you have delivered yourself right into my hands."

"You won't g-get off the Moon alive, Earthling!" growled Jhelun, his boldness returning fast.

"So that is what this planetoid is called? Not exactly original, but it shall do." he took a deep breath from his dwindling oxygen reserves and puffed out his armored chest, "And I am not human, Draconian. I am-"

"-a Bird-Man!" finished Private Rohann as he plunged downwards in a flare of azure flame from his rocket belt and delivered a brutal kick to Hawk's gun arm.

His pistol flew from his grip and bounced off across the valley floor, Hawk staggered back, an expression of shock upon his normally stoic face, but it wasn't from the Draconian's unexpected return, nor from the pain spiking through his limb. It was because somehow the alien pilot knew of him.

"You--You know of my race?!" he skidded to a stop as Rohann alighted on the valley floor once again and his boots connected, returning his artificial gravity.

"Yes! You are a Bird-Man! I know your people well." and the Private drew his pistol.

"How! Do they still exist?" Hawk's tone was desperate, but just for information, as his hand slid subtly to the base of his breast plate.

"Yes." chuckled Rohann, "They still exist, we haven't worked them all completely to death yet. How did you escape from the Camp, Bird-Man? That is supposed to be impossible!"

"I am no SLAVE!" growled Hawk, "I am free as a bird winging upon the high thermals!"

"Impossible! There are no free Bird-Men." growled the Private, then he flicked off his weapon's safety setting, "Or at least, in a moment there won't be anymore." and he took aim for Hawk's chest.

"As long as there is breath in my body, I shall remain free, Draconian!" and he threw out his arm, releasing the black-bladed dagger he'd freed from it's hiding place under his chest guard. It soared across the lunar landscape, it's speed increased exponentially by the near zero gravity, and blurred into Rohann's stomach.

He cried out and bent double as white plumes of oxygen blasted free, followed by sprays of crimson life-blood. The pistol fell from his grip and Jhelun dived for it, scrambling to catch hold of it with his clumsy flight gauntlets. But Hawk was already on the move, having charged forward into a spring, shutting off his gravity field for a second, sending himself hurtling across the gap in an amazing leap that would have been impossible on Earth. He SLAMMED into Jhelun, unlocking his boots from the ground, and together they shot backwards across the valley floor at a tremendous speed.

As they flew, Hawk struck the Draconian he had chased for so long in the face, cracking his helmet guard with his gloved knuckles. Jhelun drove his own mailed fists into the Bird-Man's sides, driving the air from his lungs in a grunt. Hawk head-butted him savagely, driving a crack into his own helmet glass, then caught the Private about the waist with his legs in a scissor-hold and delivered a hard double-punch to his chest. Jhelun gasped in pain and sagged.

"Tell me!" shouted Hawk as they tumbled end-over-end as they jetted a meter above the craggy surface, his hands around the Draconian's throat, "Tell me where my people are!"

"I--I don't know!" Jhelun yelled back over their shared comlink.

"TELL ME!" roared the Bird-Man as he dug in dangerously with the jagged fingers of his gloves, threatening to puncture the pilot's flightsuit, "The other Draconian spoke of them, so you will TELL ME where they ARE!"

"Rohann is of a w-wealthy clan! Senior members of his family govern a variety of Draconian colonies. Your people could be on any one of them! I--I don't know which ones! I swear!"

"What is the NAME of his clan!" Hawk yanked their faces so close the Draconian could see the blood veins in his wrathful eyes.

"He was Rohann of Clan Kane!" screamed Jhelun in terror, saliva bubbling on his lips, "Clan KANE!"

And the Bird-Man released him and sprang off him in rush, leaving him flying across the landscape on his back while Hawk flew high in a backwards loop. Jhelun gasped in relief and ducked his head back to see where he was going, then gaped in fear at the sight of the rapidly approaching valley wall. Hands flew to his sides and scrambled for his rocket belt controls.

But they weren't there, because the belt was gone.

"NOOOOOO!" he yelled and then a moment later he RAMMED head-first into the rocky wall, his helmet crumpling like an empty can, crushing his head into a slushy-mess.

High above and a quarter kilometer back, Hawk finished strapping the stolen rocket belt around his waist and after a few seconds of fumbling with the controls shot back down toward the lunar surface in a dazzle of blue flame. He alighted smoothly between the two open Marauders, a look of grim determination upon his face.

Normally he would have been elated to have actually flown, a dream of his people made real upon the low-gravity planetoid the humans called the Moon. But a dark knowledge now pulsated within that sword blade-like mind of his, that others of his people still existed and that they were out there, slaving beneath the cruel heel of a Draconian governor on some blasted planet hidden away in the Dynasty.

As he yanked open the engine compartment of one of the Draconian fighters for much needed spare parts, one name was echoing over-and-over within the Bird-Man's consciousness:

_KANE!_

**To be continued...**


	10. Part X

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part X - Just Deserts**

_Just outside of the starship _Searcher_'s Engineering Bay..._

Captain Rogers was flat on his back on the cold grilled deck, his blood drizzling forth from the knife that had just been rammed down into his left shoulder by the Draconian pilot who was straddling him, grinning down at his soon-to-be high profile kill.

"Buck Rogers, Earth's greatest hero!" sneered Lieutenant Bonengel at his captive as he shook his fists at the ceiling in triumph, "Done away with by my sure hand! They will shout my praises all across the Draconian Dynasty and beyond! They will erect a statue for me in the Hall of Conquerors! Women shall prostrate at my feet and beg to be bound to me! The Princess _herself_ shall-"

"Don't pose for that statue quite yet, pal." growled Rogers and reaching up with his right hand he YANKED the knife free of his shoulder in a spray of blood then STABBED it into Bonengel's stomach, twisted, and yanked it free!

The bearded intruder jerked and his eyes went wide behind their goggles, he slapped hands to his perforated gut and coughed once, then pitched over backwards.

"They can build better starfighters, but they can't make you guys smarter, that's for sure." Buck pushed the corpse off of him and struggled to his feet, gripping his gushing shoulder wound, as a pair of _Searcher_ Security Guards came racing around the corner, faces bruised but eyes rock-solid.

They snapped up their pulsars but Buck waved them off, "No need, he's deader then Elvis."

"Somebody else is dead?" asked the Guard on the left.

"Nevermind, way, way before your time, kid." and stepping over Bonengel's body Buck headed back down the passageway, "My starfighter is anchored to the hull on Deck 9, I had to cut through the fuselage to get in. Have somebody seal up the breach and return my ship to the Hanger Bay."

"Understood, Captain!" said the Guard as he and his partner gathered up the fallen Draconian, "I'll advise the Damage Control teams."

"Thanks." and Buck turned the corner.

Luckily repairs in Engineering were fully under way as the lift doors parted for Buck as he reached them, he stepped through and punched the button for Medical. A minute later he was entering the sickbay and medical personnel were swarming around him, helping him to lie down and getting fast to work on sealing up his wound.

Colonel Deering rushed in a moment later, a bandage wrapped around the torn-back leg of her uniform, "Buck!"

"Hey, Wilma." he grinned, "I got the guy."

"So I heard, thank the stars. But he nearly got you!"

"Eh, it's just a scratch."

"Are you sure?"

"I'll be up and disco'ing in less then five minutes, according to the Doc."

The brunette exhaled in relief and gripped his wrist as the last of the medical staff left the final nurse behind who was apply a spray bandage to the sealed shoulder wound. "That was very close." Wilma said softly.

"Ain't they all..." grinned Buck, "Hey, any word from Hawk?"

She shook her head, "Nothing yet. What do you think could be keeping him?"

"Trouble." Rogers scowled, "Plain and simple, 'cause there's no way a lone Marauder is any match for our resident Big Bird. He's the best pilot I know."

"Even better then you?" the side of Wilma's mouth quirked up in a teasing crook.

"Yeah, he is. That one time we duked it out he shoulda won." and Buck frowned at the memory of the unfortunate events of the time he had first met the Bird-Man. _ I'd give anything to relive that dark day and try to do it different..._

The death of Hawk's mate Koori would haunt Buck to his dying day, and maybe even beyond, if the feather-headed warrior's theory about transcending death held any credence.

Buck forced himself back to the present and as the Nurse finished magging on his sling he flexed the arm within it and sat up, swung his feet off of the medcot and stood.

"Wait-" the Nurse reached for him but he stopped her with a glare.

"I can't lie around here while Earth's fate may hang in the balance."

Wilma chewed her lip and offered no resistance of her own, and followed him out of the Medical Bay and down the corridor to the lift. She wanted Rogers up and active as well, despite her concern for his health.

_Nothing keeps him down, not for long, _frowned Wilma._ If only there were more men like him among the humans of my era. We may have shed our more barbaric tendencies over the last five hundred years, but at what cost? The Draconians are far more warlike then any human culture that ever strode the Earth throughout all of history. Not the Romans, not the Egyptians, not even the Mongols can compare with the Dynasty's savagery. Where would be without Buck Rogers and his training and American-honed instincts?_

_We wouldn't be anywhere, that's what. The Draconians would have crushed us under their boot-heel three times over. And what did we do? We took Buck away, thinking that that the treaty we'd signed with those underhanded Dracs had finally brought piece to our corner of the Galaxy. We dragged him away for nearly two years, and while we were gone...what happened?_

"Time to find out." said Buck, reading her expression like a book, as the lift doors slid shut and they shot upwards.

Wilma smiled wanly, "You know me all too well."

"Yeah. I think I do." and to her shock Buck moved in close and slid his good arm around her narrow waist, pulled her close to him, pressing her taut breasts flat to his broad barrel chest.

Instantly, Wilma was overwhelmed by his musky sense and inhaled deeply as he stared deeply into his eyes.

"Like it?"

"L-Like what?"

"My cologne. It's as close to High Karate as Dr. Goodfellow could make it."

"It--It's...I..." she was all flustered, "...what are you doing?"

"What I should have done a heckuva long time ago." he said in a low voice, and then he kissed her, soft, firmly and with deep passion.

Wilma resisted, but only for a moment, then she bent into him and wrapped her arms tightly about his neck and returned the kiss eagerly, and for a long, wonderful moment the universe fell away from them, they were one, and all their troubles faded from existence.

Then Buck broke from her and stepped back, leaving her gasping.

"Oh...oh, Buck, I--I...I don't know-"

"Forget about it, Wilma." he smiled softly.

"Don't think I can forget about it, actually." she returned the grin, "And I don't think I want to."

"Once we save the world, we'll talk, 'kay?"

She nodded, "Okay." and then the lift halted and the doors split apart. They turned and stepped out onto the Bridge, then froze in surprise.

"Greetings, Earth-Man." said a familiar figure.

"HAWK!" Buck's grin threatened to split his head in two and he charged forward and gripped the Bird-Man's hand in a solid grip, shook with him heartily, "You're back!"

"Indeed."

"You take that Marauder out?"

"Yes. The son of Kane will trouble us no longer."

Buck's gaze narrowed, "What did you just say? Did...did you say the son of Kane?"

"I-"

"Gentlemen!" said an authoritative voice and Buck was forced to tear his gaze from Hawk and looked across the deck to where _Searcher_'s Commanding Officer Efram Asimov was standing beside the ruins of his Command platform.

"Admiral!" nodded Rogers, "Good to see you up and around, sir."

"You as well, Captain. Good work keeping my ship in one piece, son."

"Ah, it was nothing, Admiral."

"All modesty aside, you, Wilma and Hawk saved our lives, Rogers. But now we face an even greater challenge."

Buck frowned, "What now?"

Hawk's visage turned grim, "Unfortunately, I come bearing sad news." and he held up a data crystal.

"What did you find out?" demanded Rogers.

The Bird-Man crossed the deck and gave the information device to Lieutenant Parson who was currently manning the Helm console, and the dark-skinned crewman inserted it into a waiting port.

"I got as close to your--_our_ homeworld as I could without being detected, and recorded this with my Scanners."

The Master Screen crackled to life and the insignia of Hawk's Avian-Class appeared, then faded to show the spherical planet of Rogers birth. He fought not to grin at the sight of it after such a long time.

_I missed ya, baby..._

He squared his shoulders and scowled, "Okay, show me."

And the Officer expanded the image and a mass of vessels burst into view in high orbit above the planet. They were Draconian Star Fortresses, and there were scores of them, they hung above Earth, each strategically placed two above a continent. Buck's quick eyes did a count, "Fourteen?"

"Fifteen, actually." replied Hawk, "And more then two hundred Marauders on constant patrol."

"Incredible!" breathed Wilma in horror, "They've done it! The Draconians have taken Earth."

"I hope they've been enjoying themselves," scowled Buck as he took a threatening step toward the display, "because starting today we're taking it BACK!"

**To be continued...**


	11. Part XI

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XI - Kill or be Killed**

_Right now..._

"You said it was going to work! You said they wouldn't see us!"

The angry voice of Captain William 'Buck' Rogers echoed across the box-shaped cockpit of the shuttle transport as it hurtled downwards toward Earth like a stone, trailing atmosphere and smoke from a half-dozen breaches in it's fuselage.

Inside, Buck was at the controls, grasping the stick with a white-knuckled grip as the shuttle plunged toward destruction.

"The error is not my mine, Captain!" snapped back the tall robot manning the starboard Engineering controls, "I told you, we were only invisible to the Draconian Scanners, not from the naked eye! You strayed too close to that patrol!"

"You mean_ they_ strayed to close to _us_, Crichton!" Buck growled as he fought to keep them from going into a spiral which he knew would tear them to pieces. He glanced side-long at the scientist strapped into the co-pilot's chair, "What happened to your distraction?"

"Impossible to say, my boy!" replied Dr. Goodfellow as he stared out through the canopy at the grey-white clouds rushing up to meet them at a fantastic rate, "Perhaps the Colonel had a problem deploying the beacon-" he was cut-off by blaster beams impacting their dorsal hull! Sparks rained down from above like angry purple gnats and a port console blew, the shuttle banked against Buck's will and they fell into that spiral he'd been doing his damndest to prevent.

"Dammit!" Rogers grit his teeth as the Marauder that had just blasted them rocketed overtop them and soared past the canopy, it's rear thrust tubes glowing like twin suns, forcing him to squint to avoid going blind, "This is not how this was supposed to go! The Cloaking Field was supposed to hide us!"

_He shook his head in fury, Cloaking Field? Seriously, leaving my fate in Crichton's hands, what was I thinking?_

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

_Ten hours earlier..._

"A cloaking field?" Buck gaped across the conference room table at the robot, "Have you gone bonkers, you talking trash can? How are we supposed to build something like that?"

"Actually, I have been working on just such a modification to _Searcher_'s Defense Shield for close to a year now, Captain, it's just been a question of channelling enough power to conceal a ship as large as ours. The Plasma Reactor's output isn't great enough to properly support the mathematics of the required disruption potential." replied Crichton, his indicator lights flashing back-and-forth in fury at the slight, "And I am much more then a 'talking trash can'. Please refrain from using insults. They accomplish nothing."

"They prevent me from beating on you with a crowbar, metal-head." glared Buck, "Because every plan you have offered up from that supposed superior intellect of yours has been one of escape, not one that will give us a tactical advantage against the armada of Draconian Star Fortresses ringing Earth."

"Logic dictates that our best and wisest course of action is to retreat, Captain." said the robot.

"No!" broke-in Hawk from his chair, "That streak of cowardice running through your ionized circuits dictate us running away, Crichton, not logic. You're scared."

"Hardly," sniffed the robot, "quite the opposite in fact. It's just that it will be too much of a risk to attempt to take the fight to the Draconians."

"Of course it is a risk." frowned Colonel Deering from her seat at the foot of the table, "But we can't just leave all those people down there, as slaves to Draconian Dynasty. We have to do something!"

"And we are gonna do something, Wilma." replied Buck and he returned his glare to the telescope-necked automaton, "You say our Plasma Reactor doesn't put out enough power to support this cloaking field of yours?"

"No. It does not."

"Howsabout a fighter? It uses a micro-Plasma Core to power engines and weapons."

Crichton paused a moment for calculations, "...No, it would not work on a Thunder-Class starfighter."

Buck cocked his head, "What about the shuttle?"

The indicator lights pulsed for another long second, then "...Yes. The modifications would work on the shuttle. It's Plasma Core has three times the output then a Thunder-Class, due to the needs of a long-range scouting vessel, for multi-being life-support requirements and extended use of the-"

"We don't need to know all that, Crichton." scowled Admiral Asimov from the head of the conference table, "How long will it take for you to make the necessary modifications?"

"Five point six three seven hours, Admiral." replied the robot, "But there is another issue."

"Which is?" demanded Asimov.

"I am hesitant to mention it-"

"Just spit it out, scrap-bucket!" growled Buck. _I so wanna just pull out my pulsar pistol and blast a hole through his arrogant head!_

The robot retracted his neck and sighed in annoyance he wasn't supposed to be capable of, "The Cloaking Field will be fragile, it's output will constantly be fluctuating while active, and unless an able technician is there to compensate manually the shuttle will most certainly be detected by the Draconian's Scanners."

Asimov frowned, "I have many able technicians amongst my crew, surely one of them can handle it."

The imperious artificial being sniffed, "I highly doubt any human in the known Universe can perform compensations at a thousand alterations a second."

"But you can," Hawk said to Crichton, "can you not?"

"Yes, a robot could."

"Oh dear god..." moaned Buck as he rubbed at his forehead, "Please tell me, _please_, that this is not going in the direction I think it's going."

"Indeed it is, my boy, indeed it is." grinned Dr. Goodfellow across the table at him, "Crichton will have to go with you to Earth."

"What?" gaped Wilma, "He will?"

"What?" the robot in question strobed, "I will?"

"He will." muttered Buck as he slumped back in his chair, "Yipee..."

"I am NOT going with Captain Rogers to Earth!" objected Crichton, his head telescoping to it's greatest height in defiance, "That is out of the question! The risk is far too great! If the Draconians were to capture an intelligence as fantastically-advanced as my own, the results could be catastrophic!"

"You're going!" snapped the Admiral, "End of story!"

And Crichton's head descended back into his body.

Buck's pained gaze flicked back to Dr. Goodfellow, who was chuckling softly, clearly amused by the entire situation.

"Quit your laughin, Doc. You're coming too."

The scientist gaped at him, "I am?"

"Yep." nodded Rogers, "Before you signed aboard _Searcher_, you were the head of the Energy Directorate, right?"

"Yes."

"And the Energy Directorate controls Earth's Defense Shield?"

"Indeed." replied Goodfellow, "While the Defense Shield projectors themselves are based around the outskirts of New Chicago, the actual control apparatus for them is located inside the Energy Directorate Building."

Buck grinned, "Then there's nobody better to get them up and running again, so as to send those Draconian Star Fortresses packing."

And Dr. Goodfellow swallowed hard, "I guess there isn't, my boy, I guess there isn't."

He wasn't chuckling anymore...

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

_Right now again..._

"This is not how this was supposed to go!" raged Buck Rogers, "The Cloaking Field was supposed to hide us!"

He stared at the Hatchet-Fighter that had just blasted the top of their shuttle, nearly breaching it's hull again, as it vanished down into the clouds in the distance.

"I know, I know, Captain, it should have worked." Dr. Goodfellow clung to his flight chair and sent a silent plea to the Gods.

"Need I remind you, I advised against this course of action." said Crichton from his console.

"What the heck are you talking about?" raged Buck as he blasted the remaining thrusters against their spiral in an attempt to break free of it, "You were the one who came up with this crazy plan to begin with!"

"Yes, that is true, Captain, but I suggested it as a method to facilitate our proper escape from the Sol System, not as a misguided and ill-advised plan to invade the Draconian-conquered home of your birth!"

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" snapped Twiki from the chair opposite the other robot, "You're a meat-head!"

"Crichton!" cautioned Dr. Goodfellow, his white-haired creator, "You should be coming up with a solution to this, not wasting our time by chastising us for getting into the current predicament!

"I am attempting to come up with a solution to this. In fact, I have one." replied the robot as he disengaged from the Engineering console and headed across the lurching deck to the aft of the cockpit, "Once again you have forgotten that I am able to carry on a complete conversation without causing a hindrance to my internal calculations. Unlike weaker organic life-forms, I have the ability to multitask."

"I can multitask, you rusting mass of stuck-up circuits!" snarled Buck as with a wrench of the control stick he finally pulled them out of the corkscrew. He gasped in relief, "Yeah! That's cooking with gas!"

"Well done, my boy!" Dr. Goodfellow patted his arm.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" thrilled Twiki, "Way ta go, Buck!"

"It ain't over yet though." Buck glared out through the canopy at the expanding dot of the Marauder, "He's coming back for another strafing run."

"What shall we do?" asked Goodfellow.

"Only one thing I can think of." and Buck sent them into a nosedive.

"Won't this cause us to crash? You said the landing repulsors were destroyed!" the Scientist gaped as they plunged into the clouds and soared downwards like a shooting star.

"Better then being blown to bits high in the sky!"

"Perhaps we won't have to do either," and Goodfellow looked back over his shoulder to the back of the cockpit, "if Crichton was telling the truth about having a solution-Crichton! What are you doing?"

"Implementing my solution, Doctor." replied the robot as he rolled into the airlock and sealed himself in.

Buck's eyes went wide as the shuttle lurched and a warning light blazed up at him from his flight board, "What the devil is that idiot doing-he...he just launched away in the escape pod!"

"Crichton abandoned us!" gaped Twiki.

And Buck blinked in shock, "But...but that's what we were going to do. There was room in the pod for all three of us!"

"We could not have survived a descent in the pod from his height, my boy." advised Dr. Goodfellow.

"Yeah, that's why I was gonna level us out with the last of the power once we reached fifteen thousand feet."

"Oh..." blinked Goodfellow, "Why, that would have been a marvellous plan, Captain."

"Yeah," Buck replied with an expression pulsating with rage, "it woulda been. But now..." they burst from the clouds and dropped into the azure sky below, "...now we're gonna die."

And Goodfellow saw what he saw: the Marauder dropping from cloudcover three klicks dead-ahead. With a burst of thrusters in matched their Azimuth and soared toward them, blaster cannons spitting twin beams of death!

**To be continued...**


	12. Part XII

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XII - Left in a Lurch**

_Halfway between Earth and the Moon, thirty minutes ago..._

With a blast of reverse thrusters, the Hatchet-Fighter designated _Marauder-88_ came to a breaking halt, floating in the diamond-flecked black ether between worlds, and in the cockpit of the jaggedly-shaped craft it's pilot regarded the blue-green marble of the planet Earth directly ahead and dearly wished that was the fighter's current destination.

But it wasn't, _Marauder-88_ had a completely different directive, though not one officially approved of by the Draconian Dynasty. Or even unofficially approved of. Why? Because the being manning the rust-hulled ship's controls was not a Draconian. And they weren't actually 'manning' the controls, because the able-bodied warrior wasn't a man, it was a woman.

A woman named Wilma Deering.

_How come we don't have a call sign?_ the auburn-haired Colonel wondered absently as she finished powering down the Marauder's engines and flicked off it's running lights. _That tradition has long vanished back in the late 20th Century with the Nuclear Holocaust that happened just after Buck got frozen in space, but I don't think it should have. Speaking of Buck, look at him, that's not his actual name or even a nickname really: Lucky Buck. It's his handle, his call sign. It was given to him after he graduated from flight school, I'll wager, by other pilots who'd gotten their wings, who each had call signs of their own..._

Wilma finished entering the final computations into her flight board and brought up the Cargo controls.

_Zephyr, Fireball, Maverick, Wizard, those names were important, they created a sense of legend, a feeling of camaraderie, that has been long missing from the squadrons of starfighters that have protected our planet in the name of the Earth Defense Directorate, and I think we need that tradition to return..._

She hit a switch on the board and with a hum of disengaging maglocks a hatch on the ventral side of the Marauder, directly beneath Deering's seat in fact, swung open, exposing it's contents to the dark vacuum of space. There wasn't much air in there, and what there was was instantly expelled in a spray of expanding white vapor that vanished into the nothingness like the ectoplasmic husk of a phantasm under the spreading sunlight of the rising dawn.

Wilma's nimble hands darted across the diamond-shaped Draconian keyboard mounted to the left of the amber-glowing Scanner display screen, feeding commands into her 'borrowed' vessel's cargo clamps.

_In fact, I think that's what I'm going to do when I get back home to New Chicago and everything is put right once again. I'm a Colonel, right? That's right, I am. And with that rank comes some pull, and it's about time I gave it a yank._ Her cheeks flushed beneath the flared side rims of the Draconian flight helmet.

_Gave it a yank? Yeesh, that sounded like something Buck would say. Okay, I've been spending way too much time with him, I'm starting to think like him._

_Or, I'm NOT spending enough time with him, and this is my mind's way of filling the lonely gap that always seems to be in my heart when he's not around. Especially when he's off on a dangerous mission risking life and limb, like he's doing right this second..._

She closed her eyes and for a moment her gauntleted hand halted in it's administrations on the Marauder's controls. Wilma was no longer in the cockpit of the Draconian starfighter she and Hawk had salvaged from the lunar gorge he'd left it behind in, no, in her mind's eye she was back in _Searcher_'s lift car rising toward the Bridge, and Buck held her in his strong arms, and she embraced him back, and their lips were pressed together, their mouths open and one organ, as their breath mingled and became one captured pocket of hot and moist gas that thrust back-and-forth between their pressed-together chests, and--_and what am I doing?!_

Wilma blinked back to reality and exhaled long and deep, dragged a hand down her perspiration flecked face.

"Get control of yourself, Colonel." she commanded softly but firmly in the cockpit and squared her shoulders under the flexible armor of the flightsuit that had once belonged to a Draconian Private that Hawk had defeated in honorable combat.

_Don't know what came over me, I never lose control like that,_ she scowled as she finished imputing the last of the orders into her special cargo, then hit a key which released the cargo clamps and with a small thump that made the captured Marauder vibrate a silver cylinder drifted free. It spun slowly out into space, then a transmission grid lit-up on it's bullet-shaped front and began to pulsate blue-red, blue-red, over-and-over in one second increments of each color.

_There we go,_ smiled Wilma wanly, _the beacon is working, excellent! The transmission should take about ten minutes to reach Earth orbit and to the armada it will appear that a sixteenth Star Fortress is out here, badly damaged and under attack from an unknown but heavily-armed enemy fleet. And then in short order they will hopefully send every starfighter they have to assist, along with some of their own Star Fortresses. And that will hopefully give Buck's shuttle plenty of space to squeeze through their patrol net, as long as Crichton's Cloaking Field works as good as he claims it will..._

Wilma scowled at the thought of Captain Rogers fate being in the hands of the arrogant upstart of a robot, but it was far too late to do anything about it, and besides, she needed to get out of here, and fast, because it wouldn't pay to be spotted by the Draconian rescue force when they arrived to assist their wounded Star Fortress. So she powered up the fighter and in a blast of thrusters rotated it around 180 degrees and prepared to head back to _Searcher_.

Or she would have, but her three sizes too big Draconian magnetic boot froze an inch above the plasma thrust pedal, thanks to her sharp eyes spotting the squadron of four Marauders rapidly approaching her position.

_Okay, I really was off my game back there, as I forgot to turn the Scanner back on! And this is happening way too fast!_

She stabbed the button and the display lit-up with a field of amber, in-which now glowed four emerald points of light: the enemy squadron.

_Where in blazes did they come from?!_ he mind whirled as she gripped the control stick tightly and powered up her fighter's weaponry.

They must have come from the moon, and were just out of my range when I powered down to launch the beacon. _Wonderful, just wonderful..._

"Marauder-88_!_ Marauder-88_!_" crackled the lead pilot in charge of the intercepting squadron, "_Come in,_ Marauder-88_!_"

Wilma licked her lips and took a deep breath, then reached to her board and twisted a nob, lowering the power feeding into her comlink, forcing it to automatically compensate by increasing it's subfrequency feed. She lowered her tone as much as possible and replied.

"_Marauder-88_ here, over." she replied as husky as she could make it. _Chauvinistic pigs, these Draconians, only having male pilots. Their backwards practices are going to get me killed, I just know it..._

"_Private Rohann?_" the voice in her helmet was terse, "_This is Lieutenant Nadav of Squardron-Omicron. Why are you all the way out here, and not back in your required patrol sector?_"

"Ahhh...there was a, uh, malfunction in my navigational computer, sir." and she pressed her foot to the PT pedal, prepared to slam it to the floor of the cockpit.

"_A Navicom error strayed you this far from guarding the Lunar Accelerator? How exactly is that possible? And what is wrong with your comlink?_"

_Lunar Accelerator?_ frowned Wilma, then see gripped the control stick tighter and got ready to unleash blasters on them. _Starting with their nosy leader..._

"I've got an overload in my power core as well, it's causing interference." she raised the prow of her Marauder a half degree and edged Lt. Nadav's fighter toward the center of her crosshairs. _These Draconian controls are so sluggish, it's like trying to run while knee-deep in mud. No wonder we're almost always their superior in space combat-_

"_Private!_" demanded the Lieutenant over the radio, "_What are you doing!_"

_Spotted me, huh!_ Wilma's eyes narrowed and gave up the prowling pretence, jammed her aim the rest of the way and his Marauder centered on her aiming screen. _Okay, that's the end of you!_

She thumbed the trigger and slammed the thrust pedal to the floor, fully expecting to be shooting through the expanding fireball of Nadav's former starfighter. But neither of those things happened! Instead, the trigger stud just clicked blankly and her own Marauder didn't thrust forward one iota.

And then her flight board went dead.

_What the heck?! _ Wilma twisted the stick and pounded on the console, but to no avail.

Her comlink was still working though, as she heard the Lieutenant laughing at her over the line, "_I was sure you weren't Rohann, interference or no interference, he's an arrogant fool who never hesitates to lord his family connection to the Warlord at anybody within earshot. Hah! So I sent the Disable code through your 'malfunctioning' Navicom._"

His cannons flashed and Wilma shut her eyes, prepared for oblivion, but the twin beams flashed over her Marauder without touching it and instead struck the beacon she'd deployed half a click away and blew it to bits.

_So much for Buck's distraction,_ she moaned internally.

Lieutenant Nadav signalled to his wing-man, "Take him!"

One of the Marauders jetted forward toward Colonel Deering's fighter and snagged her with a glowing orange tractor beam, then set off across space toward Earth, hauling her after him like useless scrap metal.

All Wilma could do was shut her eyes...

**To be continued...**


	13. Part XIII

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XIII - Mind over Matter**

_Plunging toward the blighted surface of a post-apocalyptical Earth..._

The transport shuttle for _Searcher_ burst from beneath the swirling clouds and right after, her just three kilometers away, came the Draconian Marauder that had tracked her from orbit, dogging her every move and so far landing three strikes with it's blaster canons upon their hull.

None of the hits had been to critical systems, but there were countless microfractures in the shuttle's fuselage, it was battered and cracked, giving the transport the appearance of being in the middle of an interstellar demolition derby. In the pilot's chair, smoke hanging about his shoulders like an angry grey mantle, sat Buck Rogers, and he stared with determination out through the shuttle's scratched canopy at the Hatchet-Fighter as it caught sight of them and let loose with another blaster barrage.

"Hold on!" he shouted to his two passengers and while Twiki clamped onto the console beside him, Dr. Ira Goodfellow did everything he could to obey, one hand on the edge of the co-pilot's chair he was manning without actually doing anything to help, while the other shaking limb grasped a support railing on the bulkhead beside him.

_I am beginning to question why I did not object more to coming on this mission,_ Goodfellow's frazzled inner voice bemoaned, as under Rogers quick hands the shuttle banked hard to port.

The paired aquamarine beams of destruction unleashed by the Marauder lashed past their up-tipping ventral side, one ray missing completely while the other slagged a pod holding one of the landing legs.

The shuttle rocked as it rolled end-over-end across the sky and Buck scowled at the latest warning light scolding up at him in a crimson flash. _Not like we needed that part anymore anyways, 'cause if we actually last long enough to make any sort of landing, the only kind we're gonna be making is a crash one!_

He yanked the shuttle out of it's roll and pulled the stick all the way back, they nosed over and shot downwards like a rocket, and the Marauder's second blast missed them by inches.

"What now, my boy?" inquired the pale-faced scientist beside him as the ground expanded dramatically toward them and the fuselage screamed to the high heaven.

"Now we go for broke, Doc!" shouted back Rogers, "I need you to transfer whatever power we have left into Subsystem-T."

"What, all of it?" asked Goodfellow as he began hitting controls on his part of the board.

"Everything except what I need for the thrusters, yeah."

"Even from life-support?"

"Life-Support isn't doing us much good right now, Doc. Plus, if this doesn't work we're gonna be vulture chow in less then thirty seconds, so we won't much need heat or oxygen after that."

"A valid point, my boy, a valid point!" and Goodfellow finished rerouting the power and the cockpit lights dimmed, the hum of the plasma tubes faded, even the recyclers ended their low hiss.

_Now we're hardly better then a rock,_ scowled Buck as the Marauder closed on them, taking advantage of them no longer trying to out maneuver him and their return to terminal velocity.

_Now there's a term that's always bothered me: terminal velocity. Couldn't they have just called it 'maximum' velocity? No need to make it all ominous and stuff, 'cause when you actually achieve it you pretty much know once you hit the ground it's gonna be completely terminal, so why pour salt into the wound, huh? Stupid physicists, nothing better to do but try and freak-out us jet jockeys, if I had half a chance I'd--here we GO!_

Buck had counted on the Draconian pilot being so eager to finally score a proper kill shot after all of Buck's deft evasion during the chase down through the atmosphere, that once the shuttle had stopped trying to dodge his blasts that he'd move into point-blank range in order to savour his delayed victory.

Which is exactly what the Draconian was doing, but as the Marauder moved in close, the shuttle suddenly shot upwards in a blast of ventral thrusters and the Marauder roared beneath them, but not fast enough to avoid the tractor beam that Buck slapped onto his cockpit canopy with a split-second perfectly-aimed grab.

That's what Subsystem-T was, the shuttle's tractor beam, which at normal power under properly controlled conditions in outer space would gently catch onto it's target and grip it firmly.

But down here in the screaming atmosphere of Earth, with an energy boost of nearly five hundred percent, the tractor was a vicious grabbing claw which caught onto the Marauder's canopy and TORE it off the starfighter in a shriek of whizzing metal and shattering glass, and the resultant air pressure differential yanked the Draconian pilot right out of his chair and tossed him screaming to the winds.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi! See ya, pal!" jeered Twiki as the three of them watched the enemy combatant vanish into the distance. Then Buck punched off the tractor beam and shouted to Dr. Goodfellow, "Whatever juice is left, channel it back into the engines!"

"There is hardly any, my boy," the scientist's fingers pounded the keys as quick as he could move them, "but there is some."

"It'll have to be enough!" and Buck whipped the shuttle up and back, putting the aft section between them and the ground which was soaring up to meet them like the fist of an angry god.

The engine's indicator light came on and it's reserve read two percent, aw well, but Buck grit his teeth anyway and slammed his foot down on the thrust pedal and the twin tubes flared golden, unleashing everything they had, which Goodfellow was right, it wasn't much, it only lasted four seconds, but it did slow them down immensely, and when the tubes went dark Buck was ready and blasted thrusters madly.

The shuttle went into a barrel roll, whipped over onto it's port side and they were vectoring toward the surface at a stark angle, but at least it was an angle and not a direct plunge, then they struck ground, skipped like a stone, bounced once, twice, hit HARD and went into a slide, then the shuttle was rolling over-and-over, a cliff loomed overhead, they shot off it in a roar of dirt, rock and grit, then were arcing downwards and a wide plain of greyish-blue opened up beneath them and _PHOOOOM!_ they hit the surface of a lake and broke through it in a spray that shot upwards almost a hundred meters!

Down and down into the murky depths the shuttle plunged, and then it hit bottom, landing on it's engine tubes, crumpling them like empty beer cans, the remains of the shuttle rumbled and shook, then was still.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" the grey drone was the first to speak, "That was nuts!"

Buck opened his eyes and gasped, looked over at Goodfellow with a grin, "We--We made it!"

"S-So it would seem, my b-boy," stammered the Doctor, "so it would see-" the canopy SHATTERED and a million tons of water poured into the cockpit...

**To be continued...**


	14. Part XIV

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XIV - Never Say Die**

_Aboard the _Conquest_, lead Star Fortress of the Draconian Earth invasion force..._

With a hiss of exhaust and a clanking of landing legs, the disabled Marauder settled onto the Launching Bay.

Techs swarmed forward, but were pushed back by the eight Security Guards who shouldered their way in to surround the fighter, pistols drawn and ready. They lined up in two equal groups on either side of the darkened cockpit, then their leader, the _Conquest_'s Man-at-Arms, waved one of the deck hands forward, he propped a loading ladder up against the fuselage and at the prodding of the Guard closest to him he crept up the rungs and peered fearfully through the canopy.

"What do you see!" demanded Dreiger, the Man-at-Arms.

"I-I..."

"WHAT!"

"Nothing, sir! Nothing!"

"What do you mean: nothing?"

"The glass is p-polarized, sir!"

"Then open the cockpit, you fool!"

The tech blinked in terror, "But-"

"If you are afraid that whoever is in there might blast your head off, fool, then you should also be aware of my own pistol which is levelled at your back right now. If you don't do what I order _right now_ then I will spray your carbonized entrails across the deck!"

The deck hand gulped and nodded, pulled a decoupler from his toolbelt and pressed it to the canopy's seal. There was a buzz-hum and it slid open, the deck hand shrank back, fully expecting a bolt of energy to carve the top of his head off, but that didn't happen. But a blast from Dreiger's pistol smacked into the fuselage two inches from his right hand, making him jerk in terror.

"What...do...you...SEE!"

The tech rose up a half-foot and peered inside the cockpit, "I-I see a...it's a-" _BOOOOM!_ the pilot's chair ejected in a flare of blue jets, catching the deck hand on the jaw as it shot upwards in a blur, he was knocked backwards off the ladder and crashed to the deck dead, the rocketing chair roared up towards the high ceiling and SHATTERED against it, breaking into three pieces which rained down on the Launching Bay deck, sending the Security Guards staggering and stumbling in all directions.

Back in the cockpit, Colonel Wilma Deering crawled from her crouch beneath the Marauder's flight board, fighting not to cough from the toxic smoke swirling around her, she scrambled up-and-over the side of the cockpit and slid down the fuselage face-first, landing on her splayed hands and rolled into a somersault which ended with her rising up on bent knees, pulsar pistol at the ready.

The first Guard to recover got a blue bolt drilled into the center of his chest, he staggered back as Wilma rushed toward him, and as he fell she snatched the pistol from his loosened grip, he didn't need it anymore, then she was racing down the length of the Launching Bay toward the nearest exit, her own long-barrelled Type-6 Directorate pulsar pistol blazing azure death at anybody that moved on the right, while the purloined Draconian blaster spat yellow destruction at a row of fuel drums. The center one blew and the resultant orange-gold fireball detonated the rest of the drums and the left half of the Bay went up in a blaze of flame that ripped five Marauders to shreds and sent deck hands screaming in all directions, most of them lit-up like human torches.

"KILL HIM!" roared Drieger, the Man-at-Arms, who had managed to claw his way to his feet using a cargo container, and he glared with scathing hatred through his one remaining eye at the receding intruder.

But he needn't have bothered, because just as Deering reached the exit, a shape rose up out of the corridor's shadows and sprang at her, tackling her about the waist, and the two of them went down in a tangling of limbs.

Wilma rolled over-and-over down the deck, struggling mightily with her attacker, the two energy pistols long gone.

_What IS this thing!_ her mind raged as she kicked and punched at the shadowy body atop her, while the being in turn hissed and bucked like it was half-animal.

Wilma managed to get her knees up and between them, kicked out with all her mite, sending her opponent flying backwards off of her. She flipped over and staggered up, but gaped in shock as she saw that her attacker hadn't hit the wall, instead they had _landed_ on it and now clung there like a spider.

"What-What are you?" the Colonel staggered back, then was halted by her shoulder-blades thumping against the firm chest of somebody behind her.

Before she could react, a strong arm encircled her throat and the muzzle of a blaster ground into her right cheek hard enough to draw blood.

"So good to see you again, Colonel Deering." snarled the last voice she'd ever wanted to hear again in her left ear.

_Oh no! Killer Kane!_

"I see you have made acquaintances with my personal bodyguard." said Kane, "May I present Tigergirl, I believe you knew her father."

And her lithe combatant dropped to the deck on all fours and grinned savagely up at Wilma with a mouth full of needle-sharp teeth. There was no mistaking the three claw-like markings slicing down from the girl's thrown-back mane of jet-black hair to encircle her left eye.

_Tigergirl,_ gaped Wilma, and then Kane swung his blaster high and struck her on the back of the head with the butt. Her eyes rolled back into her skull, she slumped in his grip and knew no more...

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

_Later..._

Wilma soared up toward the conscious world, borne on artificial wings, and her eyelids fluttered open, she gasped at the migraine pounding between her ears, then slowly sat-up.

_Uhhhh, I keep getting knocked-out, I have to find a way to end this cycle before I end up with brain damage._ She rubbed at her forehead, that helped lesson the headache somewhat. _ I think I must have neural trauma already, because I could swear I just saw..._

"...Kane!" she gasped as her gaze focused and the rogue Earthling himself loomed over her, sneering down at her.

"Colonel." he nodded, "Welcome back to the land of your birth. You know, I never believed the Defense Directorate records that said you had perished during our absence from the Sol System."

_Perished?_ the brunette pilot blinked rapidly as she crabbed away from the dark-uniformed traitor and banged up against a solid bulkhead a meter back.

_Huer! Dr. Huer must have altered the data banks before they could get to them. Our mission aboard _Searcher _was top-secret, so only he and the Computer Council would have know the truth about where we went. And you can't interrogate an AI..._

_At least, I don't think you can,_ she frowned as she rose to her feet and smoothed down her stolen Draconian flightsuit. It was fitted for a larger male and clung to her trim and shapely female form oddly.

For a moment she wondered if Dr. Theopolis and the rest of the brilliant Quads still existed, or if they had been destroyed by the Draconian invasion force when they had taken New Chicago. Wilma wanted desperately to ask her captor about their fate, especially Huer's, but knew she couldn't trust whatever answer Kane would give her. No, her first priority was to escape.

She looked back-and-forth and scowled at the cell she was in, then looked back to Kane who stood on the other side of the rust-walled chamber, blocking the exit. A pair of burly Security Guards stood at attention on either side of the doorframe, and on Kane's left crouched the toned form of Tigergirl, down on all fours, her hands splayed against the grilled deckplates, showing off her two-inch long fingernails, each of them razor-sharp and eager to tear and slash.

_That one is more tiger then girl, I think,_ Wilma's eyes narrowed.

"Where did you get that flightsuit?" Kane demanded, and her gaze whipped back to his.

"What?"

"It belonged to a Private Rohann, Colonel Deering."

"Did it?" she shrugged as if bored, then folded arms across her chest, "So what if it did?"

"Is he dead? Did you kill him?"

"You know, Kane, I don't really recall."

He stared back at her silently, studying her neutral expression, then with a click of his heels he turned away.

"Take the suit from the Colonel and search her completely." he commanded of his bodyguard as he headed out of the cell.

"Understood, Warlord."

"She may be carrying hidden weapons or contraband. Don't take any chances, be thorough, leave no possible hiding place unturned."

Then the door slid shut and locked, Kane was gone, leaving Colonel Deering alone with the two huge Guards and Tigergirl. With cruel sneers the two Draconian soldiers stalked toward Wilma to begin the search...

**To be continued...**


	15. Part XV

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XV - Odd Man Out**

_Deep beneath the surface of an unknown lake..._

As per usual while talking, poor Dr. Goodfellow hadn't been concentrating on the environment around him, so he had been caught completely off-guard by the implosion of the crashed shuttle's canopy.

But Buck Rogers had spotted the spreading cracks in the thick shock-resistant glass and was half out of his seat and turned away when the canopy shattered and water blasted in at a fantastic rate.

_Got only seconds! If that!_

Buck half ran, half slogged, through the rushing water to the aft of the cockpit and tore the emergency kit from it's hooks on the wall, slung it over his head and shoulder, then grabbed one of the breathing masks from where they hung beside the fire-axe and shoved it over his mouth, and a moment later the tepid lake water rose over his face and he was completely submerged.

For three agonizing seconds that seemed to last three hours, Buck didn't have air, then he found the touch controls on the side of the mask and dialled it to rebreather mode. He gasped down the precious air with delicious relief, then snagged a second mask from the wall and pivoting back around kicked off, shooting upwards in a trail of bubbles, and returned to the front of the cockpit, which was now above him since the shuttle had been half inverted, making the aft wall the floor.

Dr. Goodfellow was still alive and kicking, Buck was extremely relieved, the old guy had been struggling with the belt restraints holding him in the co-pilot's chair, though to no avail.

Buck pressed the second mask over the Doc's mouth and nose, pulled the strap over his head and activated it. The mask's apparatus sucked the water out of the inside cowl, as well as from Goodfellow's nostrils and mouth, and replaced them instantly with oxygen, the white-haired codger sucked it down desperately, his bloodshot eyes spinning in their sockets.

But a few moments later he was okay once more and Buck's questing fingers found the seat belt release button and depressed it, the straps holding Goodfellow to his chair popped free and the scientist gripped the Captain's arm in appreciation.

Buck felt a tug on his arm and looked down to see Twiki had managed to climb up the inverted deck and was now clinging to the pilot's chair beside him. He reached down and yanked the little Ambuquad up and levered him onto his back, where Twiki gripped him tightly, hanging on like a backpack.

Looking back to the old scientist, Buck jerked a thumb upwards and Goodfellow nodded, together they kicked off from the chair and console respectively, shot through the gaping hole that was the busted canopy and rocketed free of the crashed transport shuttle.

_I wish we could talk,_ scowled Buck under his breather as they slowly rose up through the depths hand-in-hand, _but this isn't outer space, the comlinks wouldn't be able to pick-up our voices, let-alone relay them back to our ears. Once all this craziness is over maybe I'll suggest they make an upgrade. Of course, I have to actually survive to that point, hah, and considering how things are stacked against us my chances of doing so are looking between slim..._

_...and none..._

His inner monologue had trailed off as he caught sight of something moving toward them on their right. He halted in his kicking and pulled Dr. Goodfellow to a stop beside him, pointed. The Doctor peered through the depths and his eyes went wide at what was plowing toward their position at a rapid rate.

Buck's gaze narrowed as he recognized the familiar lines of a large shark. _Awww, crap..._

He pushed Goodfellow away from him and kicked fast to the left, and the shark flashed between the three of them in a rush that left behind a powerful wake that pushed the two men even further apart. Buck had gotten a close look at the fearsome creature and his inspection did nothing to improve the situation, as the beast actually only vaguely resembled the sharks of his time. It had three dorsal fins that arched down it's back like spins and it's tail was lined with spikes. It had four eyes set haphazardly in a zig-zag pattern across it's head, and it's skin was covered in twisting green-gold scales.

_Mutant sharks, thanks to the Nuclear Holocaust, _Buck scowled as the creature began looping back around to make another run at their position._ The situation keeps improving for us, ain't Fate a bitch..._

The shark swarmed in, tail whipping back-and-forth like a machine, and it zeroed on Dr. Goodfellow, who was doing his best to swim up and away, but of course he was moving way too slow. Buck's hand dove to his side and yanked his energy weapon free of it's hip-holster, raised it, very glad that he had switched to the most powerful pulsar pistol Searcher had to offer. He was gonna need it!

_Better not miss,_ he took aim as the mutant predator soared toward the rising scientist and fired, sending a blue beam of energy flashing out of the muzzle.

It lashed through the depths, vaporizing water as it flew, and struck the shark in the side. The creature jerked but kept on going for Goodfellow, but Buck wasn't stupid, he had fired more then once, and three more blasts struck the creature, one on the tail, another in the side, and the final shot struck one of it's googly eyes and scalded through, cauterizing what little brain the thing had. It's maw split in agony then it nosed down a meter from Goodfellow's kicking legs and sank into the depths.

From his perch on Buck's back, Twiki shook his fist at the monster as it vanished.

Buck gasped in relief under his breather and moved to stick the pistol back in it's holster, but halted the weapon halfway to his hip, as from the darkened depths of the lake FOUR more mutant sharks rose up, all heading straight for him!

_Dammit..._

That wasn't exactly true though, as one of them broke from the pack and went after it's dead comrade which Buck had just killed, clamping onto it's blasted side with it's huge maw and with a fearsome shake of it's head tore loose a big chunk of flesh.

The remaining three sharks kept true to their path and raced up toward Buck at an amazing rate, he recovered from his surprise in time to swing up his weapon and let-loose with a fanning barrage of six shots, the blue bolts lashed down at the creatures, catching one in the face, detonating it's head, while he blasted the dorsal fins off a second one, kicking it out of it's bee-line for him and sending it spiralling off, trailing a cloud of blood. But the remaining shots missed the third shark completely and it roared up at Buck, maw wide, he saw row-after-row of jagged teeth and yanked himself to the side, the mouth SNAPPED shut less then an inch from his hand, missing it but not the long barrel of Buck's pistol, which it bit off cleanly.

Buck let go of the ruined weapon and kicked off, sending himself shooting through the water at an upward angle, as the shark whipped around and rocketed back toward his position, eager to make the kill. Buck looked back over his shoulder as he flew up through the depths and saw the monster expanding fast beneath him, he knew he'd never make it, it was impossible for him to out-swim the thing.

_So I'll just have to out-think the freak!_

And he changed direction in a powerful flail of limbs and went into a backwards somersault, Twiki hanging on to his back for dear life the whole time, and a moment later when the shark reached him the jaws snapped shut on nothing but water because Rogers was above the thing now and with desperate hands he CAUGHT onto the first dorsal fin and slammed his body down between the other two fins, clamping onto the creatures sides with his thighs, and then he was riding it like a horse!

The shark kept on going, but it was jerking and shaking now, Buck clung on for dear life with one hand, while the other found the emergency kit slapping against his side and tugging it's lid open a few inches he found what he needed and pulled it free, snapping the case closed as soon as the tool was clear.

Still holding onto the arcing fin with his left hand, he up-ended the plasma torch in his right and thumbed it to life, producing a four inch glowing blade of green energy that vaporized the water around it in a cascade of rushing bubbles. Buck stabbed downwards with the torch and it's energy blade pierced the skin of the shark with almost no resistance. The bucking doubled with intensity as agony tore through the creature, but Buck dug deep, sending blood and innards arching upwards in a spray, the shark spasmed brutally and that did it, Buck and his drone passenger were tossed free and flew away, tumbling end-over-end.

He managed to hold onto the torch and flicked it off, then kicked himself to a halt and levelled out with a flail of his arms. His searching eyes found the shark and to his immense relief watched as it slowly sank away into the dark pit of the lake.

_It doesn't get any closer then that,_ he exhaled in a cloud of bubbles, then stowed the still-hot torch in a jacket pocket and kicked off upwards, and three minutes of hectic swimming later he finally broke the surface of the lake.

Buck gaped up at the grey sky for a long moment, so glad to see there still was one, as for a bit there he'd wondered if his whole universe had become that lake. But the rest of the world was still here, thankfully, and he reluctantly levelled out his gaze and looked for Dr. Goodfellow. But there was no sign of him, even after Buck had rotated completely around 360 degrees.

"Can you detect him Twiki?" he asked of the Ambuquad on his back.

"Nope! Bidi-bidi-bidi, sorry, Buck."

Rogers scowled. _Is Goodfellow still down there in the depths? Did another of those shark things get him? Or did he make it ashore?_

Buck weighed the odds and decided his best bet was land, because it had been hard enough to see underwater without any goggles, and if the sharks had gotten Goodfellow then there was nothing he could do about it, he was gone. It was morose, but he had to face facts.

So he pivoted around until he saw land in the distance, then set off with a strong breaststroke which took him and Twiki ashore in less then five minutes. Buck dragged himself out of the water and across the grey sand, tugging off his breathing mask and releasing Twiki in relief and flopped over onto his back, gasping in real Earth air for the first time in almost two years.

And found himself looking straight up the length of a towering figure in ragged robes which loomed over him, glaring down with furious eyes! The being held a makeshift spear hewn out of what looked like a jagged length of fuselage, and it pointed the lethal tip directly between the Captain's eyes.

Buck could only stare...

**To be continued...**


	16. Part XVI

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XVI - Pipe Dream**

_In the bowels of the Draconian Star Fortress..._

"Give us the flightsuit!" came the guttural command.

The greyish-blue eyes of Colonel Wilma Deering narrowed.

"Not going to happen." she growled back dangerously as two towering Draconian warriors advanced toward her.

"You will do as commanded, Earthling, or you shall be rendered unconscious and we shall take it."

She raised balled fists and went into a read stance, "Good luck trying-" they rushed her, she slugged one in the jaw, threw up a high-kick for the face of the other, but he was fast and blocked her the ankle with his forearm, halting the strike, she pivoted around and punched him in the gut, then yanked her throbbing hand back as she had hit his armored breastplate. A mailed fist struck the side of her head, sending her reeling into the bulkhead, the Draconians surged forward and each caught an arm, wrenched them up painfully and slammed her up against the wall, pinning her there.

Wilma thrashed and bucked but their strength was enormous, they held her in place one-handed by the wrists.

"Let me go!" she raged as their swarthy bearded faces scowled down at her, and the one on the right reached in with his free hand and gripped the catch on the front of her flightsuit, began to drag it downwards-

"Stop..." hissed the husky female voice of Tigergirl and the bearded soldier did as he was told, pulled his hand back.

Breathing heavily, Wilma watched wide-eyed as the sultry felinoness rose up on her hind legs and strode toward her, hips swinging like a runway model. She moved into Wilma's personal space without hesitation and halted with her body nearly touching hers.

"You are not what I expected, Colonel Deering." purred the alien female as she studied Wilma's face carefully. Her voice was laced with feline inflections and they fascinated Deering despite her predicament, there was something so enticing about this strange being.

_I always knew Tigerman came from some conquered world deep within Dynasty territory, but I-I never really gave his race any thought, let alone envisioned what a female member of his species might be like. She is...is breathtaking. But a deadly enemy, I can never forget that._

"I expected you to come across as a brutal killer," said Tigergirl as she looked her prisoner up-and-down appraisingly, "The infamous Colonel Wilma Deering, ace starfighter pilot with twenty-seven Draconian kills, partner-in-arms with the legendary Buck Rogers himself."

"Rumors tend to get out of control." glared Wilma.

"No, you are just as lethal as the files on you suggest, Colonel. Look what you did to our Launching Bay. Four men are dead at your hand."

"I was only defending myself."

"And you did an amazing job doing so." purred Tigergirl, "If it wasn't for my prowess you might have succeeded in escaping. But you didn't, and here we are. Now, I am going to order these warriors to release you, and you are going to remove that flightsuit and give it to me, with no resistance."

"I am? And why exactly would I do that?"

"Because it belonged to Warlord Kane's son."

Wilma's eyes saucered, "It does? I-I didn't know."

"And now you do. His father wants it back." and Tigergirl moved back, looked to the soldiers.

They released Deering and without a word she unmagged the front of the flightsuit, shrugged out of it's arms, then slid it off. She gathered it up carefully and handed it over to the cat-girl, then moved back, now clad in just her thermal bodysuit and bare feet.

"Thank-you, Colonel." replied Tigergirl as she folded the suit up and carefully stuck it under her arm. Then she nodded to the Draconian on Wilma's right and he slugged her across the jaw. She staggered to the side and fell to the deck on her knees, blood streaming down from the side of her mouth.

"That is for refusing our commands!" snarled the alien woman, and then she drew a palm scanner from her belt and played it across Wilma, "Now we shall see if you have anything hidden upon your person."

Wilma just glared up at her and waited for it all to be over...

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

_Later..._

With a hiss, the door to the _Conquest_'s War Room slid back and Colonel Deering was marched in, clad in the knee-length skirts and silken vest of a Draconian handmaiden. Tigergirl marched behind her, blaster pistol at the ready for any sign of resistance. Kane looked up from his muted conversation with the Star Fortress's Commanding Officer as his sultry bodyguard stepped around the prisoner and strode up to him, handing over her bundle.

Kane handed her a data crystal in exchange, "Take this to the Chief Engineer."

Tigergirl accepted it and bowing her head in respect she left the War Room.

Raising the flightsuit's collar to his eyes, Kane studied the serial number printed there, then scowled across the deck at the Colonel, "Did you kill him yourself?"

Deering only stared back at him.

"No matter, he is dead, and now so are you." the Warlord placed the folded flightsuit on the console beside him, then squared his shoulders.

"So do it." snapped Wilma, "Execute me."

"Oh, we'll get to that, Colonel, that I promise. But after you answer a few questions."

"I'm not answering anything." she replied coolly.

"Your death can be quick and mostly painless, Deering, or it can be extremely slow, agonizing and very degrading. It's your decision."

She made no reply.

"I only wish to know if Rogers is still alive. The Directorate records we recovered after the invasion was complete showed that both you and he had perished during a training exercise. But here you are, Colonel, suddenly back in the land of the living, after almost two years. And one of our outer patrols is suddenly missing after reporting encountering an Earth vessel called _Searcher_, which appears to have vanished."

Kane drew a printed image from the surface of the console and studied it, "The image is fuzzy, but it appears to some kind of long distance space probe vessel. And do you know who else we found missing when we conquered Earth, Colonel? Admiral Asimov, Earth's foremost deep space explorer." he turned the image of _Searcher_ around so she could see it, "And the motto written across the side of your vessel: _Per Ardua Ad Astra_. I still remember my Latin, Colonel. It means 'Through Adversity to the Stars'. You, Asimov and Captain Rogers went looking for the lost tribes of man."

Wilma's face hardened and Kane's lips curled into a sneer, "As I expected. You forget that I am not Draconian, Colonel-"

"Oh, I've never forgotten, Kane." she spat back, "You're human, though the lowest kind imaginable. You are a traitor, you turned on your own people."

"I am helping lead humankind into a new era!"

"You have enslaved them! Your own race! You're scum!"

"You don't know what it's truly like out there in deep space, Colonel!" he slammed his fists down on the console, "The Draconian Dynasty controls three quarters of the known Universe, but only barely. There are terrific alien elements out there whom we only just keep in check. Earth is but one planet, and your Federation is mostly symbolic, you have no real space force, and each world in it depends completely on their Defense Shields and Global Pulsar Batteries to protect themselves. But yours failed to keep us out, now didn't it!"

Wilma's gaze narrowed, "It should have. How exactly did you get past it? Scared to tell me your secret?"

Kane smiled for the first time, "It matters not if I reveal it to you, as Earth is ours now. One of your own transmitted the secret path through the shield to us."

"What?" the Colonel didn't believe him, "That's impossible! None of us would do such a thing!"

"You were just berating me for turning 'traitor', Deering." sneered Kane.

"I still don't believe it! Who! Who betrayed Earth!"

Kane shrugged, "That remains a mystery to us. The Dynasty received a coded message from deep space six months ago. In it was the coordinates for getting through Earth's Defense Shield, that was all."

_From deep space?_ Wilma frowned darkly. _Not from Earth itself? But who in deep space would have that kind of top-secret knowledge?_

She didn't have an answer.

Kane returned to the original topic, "I read from your reaction that Captain Rogers is still alive, which comes as no real surprise. But even he can't stop us now, Earth is ours, Draconia has it in an iron grip, and there is nothing Buck Rogers or Admiral Asimov can do. Our forces will hunt them down and they will die, just as you are about to." and he looked to the nearest Draconian warrior, a tall thin man standing guard at the door, and waved him over.

Kane shoved Wilma down onto her knees and stepped back, ordered the soldier to draw his weapon. The helmeted warrior did so and flipped the pistol to it's maximum setting.

Wilma glared up at Killer Kane, "What, no trial? No pomp and circumstance? You're going to kill me right here, right now? Just like that?"

"Yes." replied the Warlord, then he nodded to the warrior, "Just like that."

And the Draconian levelled the blaster at Wilma's head and squeezed the trigger...

**To be continued...**


	17. Part XVII

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XVII - Quick on the Draw**

_Amidst the blighted plains of Earth's Forbidden zone..._

Buck Rogers vomited up fetid lake water onto his chest with a rasping cough, then batted away the tip of the spear pointing between his eyes with his palm, eliciting a snarl of challenge from the robed figure towering over him.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll fight in a second, bub. Just let a guy catch his breath, okay?" he propped himself up on his elbows and dragged in a deep gulp of oxygen.

_No rest for the wicked, as per usual,_ Buck frowned, then dragged himself the rest of the way onto his feet and turned about, surveying the craggy beach surrounding the lake he'd just escaped from. _Huh, I think I liked it better back in the depths with the four-eyed sharks..._

There was nine of the tall beings, all clad in similar ragged blue robes and jerkins, their faces mostly covered in wrappings that showed just their eyes. And what skin Buck could see around those furious irises was puckered and scarred, discolored in shades of unhealthy greenish-grey.

_More mutants, oh yay. These are like those nomadic guys who chased Twiki and me that time I ventured outside of New Chicago, just after I arrived in the 25th Century. They were after Dr. Theopolis for his gold parts. He said something about a black market. Well, if they are organized enough to have a market, then most likely they have a hierarchy of somesort. So perhaps I can negotiate for safe passage, trade them something, or-_

The Nomad thrust the spear for his chest, Buck dodged to the side and back, while Twiki ran for cover behind a big rock.

"No need for violence, bub!" glared Rogers, "Howsabout we talk this through-okay, maybe not!" he had switched his tact as two more Nomads came at him from either side. Guess I'm duking my way outa this!

He ducked under a blow from the left Nomad's weapon, an aluminium baseball bat of all things, extremely rusty due to it being five centuries old, but no less formidable. It hummed over his head and Buck drove a punch into the mutant's gut, sending him staggering back gasping, then he sidestepped the swing of a fire axe from the one on the right had stabbed for his stomach, spun and sent a kick for the face of the spear-touting leader, who parried his boot back with an expert spin of his jagged weapon.

"Three against one is what you guys think is fair, eh?" he jeered as he caught the wrist of the axe-wielder and Karate-chopped his throat, stunning him and sending him thumping down onto the beach on both knees.

"You guys need to learn some manners for when you meet new people! Uhh!" the bat had caught him on the shoulder and he grit his teeth in pain, stumbled back, but recovered in time to intercept the leader as he charged him, spear out. Buck weaved to the side and caught the guy by the wrists, kept going with the spin, putting all his strength into it, and sent the Nomad flying head-over-heels into the lake. He landed with a splash.

Instantly, the Nomad with the baseball bat dropped it and headed to his splashing friend's rescue, leaving Buck behind, standing over the third mutant he'd downed. The Nomad tried to stagger back up but Buck whacked him with another Karate-chop, "Stay down, curly."

The mutant fell back down onto his knees and Twiki reached out from behind his rock and zapped him with a charge from his grasper hand. The guy fell to earth, crawling with blue lightning.

Buck looked to the the Nomad playing life-guard and saw that he was nearly waist-deep in the lake now, he'd just reached his friend and was helping him to stand. Then Buck's gaze snapped past them, farther out on the lake, as he'd spotted movement.

"Dammit! Look out!" he shouted, gesturing madly, "You have to get out of there! NOW!"

The eyes of the two Nomads gaped at him through their soggy bandages, then they figured what he meant and looked back over their shoulders and saw it: one of the three-finned shark creatures was torpedoing toward them, it was less then ten meters away, _nine_, they turned and started desperately wading for sure, _six_, _five_, it's huge jaw opened wide, _four_, _three_, one of the nomads fell, _two_, _one_-PHWAM! PHWAM!-PHWAM!

The shark exploded into a bloody-pulp that rained down all around the two wading mutant humans.

And Buck lowered the small but deadly Type-2 Directorate pulsar pistol. He'd managed to grab it just in time from the depths of the survival kit that hung from his hip.

_Maybe this model isn't so bad after all,_ he grinned as the two Nomads he'd just saved reached the beach and clambered out, came toward him.

Buck snapped up the pistol, "Hey! Watch it, pals! I don't wanna use this on...you...okay, what are you doing?"

They had dropped to their knees before him and bowed their heads. And as he looked around, the rest of the pack did the same. Twiki stepped out cautiously from behind the rock, "Bidi-bidi-bidi! Are they worshipping you, Buck?"

His human friend scowled, "They better not be. I'm not in the mood." then he looked back to the Nomad leader, "Hey, no need to do that. Let's call it even, okay? No making me your king."

"But...we attacked...you." growled the Nomad in charge with a voice like a fifty year chain-smoker, as he peered up at their savior. Between each grouping of words he seethed and rasped, like they were painful to utter.

"Hey, you guys and my kind, we've always been a bit at odds, I get it." Buck shrugged.

"Yes!" replied the Nomad, "You...are from the...Inner City!"

"Well, kinda. But don't hold it against me. Look, I don't want any trouble, pal. I just want to get home, back to New Chicago. See, I think I left the iron on in my apartment and I'm afraid my new tux is gonna get burned. You know how it is."

"You...do not look...like a...Draconian." the leader rose, and so did the rest of his gang.

Buck cocked his head, still gripping his pulsar just in case it turned wrong for him again, "Draconians? Oh, so you've met the party crashers, huh? Let me guess, it didn't go all smiles and hugs."

"So you...are not...a Draconian then?" the leader gathered up his spear, but not in a threatening fashion.

"Nope! I hate them just as much as you do. Hey, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, you know what I mean?"

"Maybe...you are...lying?"

Buck shrugged, "Sure, maybe I am. But howsabout you let the big cheese of your group decide that, huh?"

It was the mutant human's turn to cock an eye, "Big...cheese?"

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" piped up Twiki, "You know, the guy in charge. Mister Big. The Man. Your Numero Uno."

"Oh." the Nomad stared down at the drone, then he looked back to Buck, "You mean...the Archon."

Captain Rogers nodded, "Yeah, that sounds like who I need to chat with. Can you take me to him."

The Nomad lowered his spear, but only just, then jerked it to the left, pointing at a path that headed up the side of the low canyon the lake was based in. Buck and Twiki started forward, then Buck paused for a moment, looked back at his 'host', "Look, I know this is probably a longshot, but did anybody else come out of the lake before me? An old man, with white hair?"

"No. You...are all...we have...seen." replied the nomad as his party formed up behind him.

Rogers cast one last glance at the still waters of the dark lake, then sighed and continued heading up the path.

_Nice knowing you, Doc,_ Buck sent to the ether, _I hope wherever you end up, spiritually-speaking, that it's a better place then this blasted junkyard..._

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

_A kilometer away, on the other side of the lake..._

With one final heave of his aching arms, Ira Goodfellow, Chief Scientist of the starship _Searcher_, at last managed to drag himself free of the lake and with a gasp of relief he rolled over onto his back on the wet sand.

_That swim...that swim...nearly did me...did me in..._

For nearly ten minutes the old man just lay there breathing raggedly, doing his best to slow his racing heart. White dots were dancing before his eyes, but it wasn't from the slowly setting sun Goodfellow decided, it must be from the recycled air he was breathing.

_Right...yes...I am still wearing the breathing mask..._

He tugged it off his mouth and nose, tossed it away, then with a groan sat up. With great effort he climbed to his feet and stared off across the still waters of the dark lake. _I guess Captain Rogers did not make it, a pity. Those mutated shark creatures must have overwhelmed him. What a noble sacrifice he made, giving his life for mine. If only it could have been the other way around, for I am certain Earth needed William Rogers far more then it needed an old man like me..._

Dr. Goodfellow forced a smile and finished the sentiment out-loud, "But I shall attempt to try and complete the mission, yes I shall. It's what the Captain would have wanted."

"Unfortunately, Doctor, your expertise is required in a much more important endeavour." said a familiar voice behind him.

Goodfellow jerked and staggered around, jaw gone slack, "What? Crichton? Why, it is you!" his grin turned genuine.

Indeed, the robot he had created stood before him, his metal casing cast in coppery shadows by the westward-setting sun. He wasn't on roller wheels though, but instead hovered three inches above the beach on a blue glow of micro-thrusters.

"I don't recall making that modification to you, my boy." frowned Goodfellow.

"You did not, Doctor," replied the bot, "I made the hover-mode alteration myself. Among others."

"Others? What others?"

"This one, for example." and Crichton raised his right armature which clacked and whirred, reforming into a lethal-looking pulsar cannon.

The Doctor gaped in shock, "What-What are you doing?"

And Crichton's visual receptor bars strobed ominously, "Taking a firm control of my destiny, Doctor, a firm control."

**To be continued...**


	18. Part XVIII

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XVIII - Raising Cain**

_In the War Room of the Draconian Star Fortress_ Conquest_..._

Colonel Wilma Deering was on her knees in the center of the octagon-shaped chamber, defiantly staring up at the black-uniformed Killer Kane who had just given the order to execute her to the Draconian warrior standing on her left, who was holding his blaster trained directly on Deering's temple.

The tall soldier slid his gauntleted finger onto the trigger pad and Wilma's eyes slid shut. _This is it, I have finally pushed my luck one time too many. I just wish I could have told Buck once and for all that I love him. I had my chance back in _Searcher_'s lift and I completely wasted it. I'm sorry, Buck, I truly am-_

The blaster roared and Wilma jerked.

But from surprise, not from the blue bolt striking her head, because the Draconian warrior had swung his aim away from her in a blur and instead had blasted the chest out of another warrior on the opposite side of the room. The remaining two Security Guards inside the War Room gaped in shock and reached for their own pistols, but Deering's former executioner was pivoting fast and gunned them both down with expert shots, finishing his spin with the blaster pointed directly at Killer Kane's amazed face.

"Wha--What?!" gaped the Warlord in fury, "Soldier! What are you doing!"

"Taking control of your ship." replied the Draconian, and Wilma's heart lept to her throat in amazement because she knew that voice! It was

"HAWK!" she shot to her feet and stared into the goggled face mostly hidden beneath the heavy Draconian helmet, "Talk about great timing! So you managed to sneak about using the second captured Marauder?" she shook her head and rolled her eyes, "Well, of course you did, you're here, aren't you? It's so good to see you."

"And it is good to see you as well, Colonel." nodded her eleventh hour savior, "I am pleased you managed to survive."

Wilma turned on Kane and glared him down, "No thanks to this homicidal maniac." and stepping forward she drove a fist into his gut, making him gag and sending him down onto his knees, clutching his solar plexus.

"Strip-search?" she spat down at him, "You're the one who deserves to have all his 'possible hiding places' unturned, you perverted psycho."

Kane glared up at her, then looked to her companion, "Who are you?! How DARE you-"

"Oh, I dare, Earth-Man! I dare!" and Hawk tore off his helmet and pushed the flight goggles off his eyes and to his forehead, revealing his feather-headed nature to the Warlord, "Look upon my visage, Kane, see the face of the one who has defeated you!"

"A...A Bird-Man!" Kane's eyes saucered, "Not possible!"

"Indeed it is, human! For not all of my noble people languish in chains. I stride the corridors of space free as an eagle upon the winds, and while there is but one breath still in my lungs I shall use it fight those who would enslave my kind, and any other peoples!"

"Enslave your kind?" frowned Wilma, "What do you mean, Hawk?"

"While fighting for my life upon the satellite you Earthlings call the Moon, that Draconian Private I faced off against revealed to me that a colony of my people exists somewhere within the Draconian Dynasty, where they are enslaved."

"What?!" Deering was both disgusted by such an injustice and thrilled for Hawk that more Bird-Men still existed. She looked to Kane, "Is this true?"

The Warlord said nothing, only glared up at them defiantly.

"Oh, it is true!" breathed Hawk as he caught hold of Kane's collar and yanked him up onto his feet. He drilled the muzzle of his blaster into Kane's right cheek and glared deeply into his eyes, "The Private had no reason to lie, and he said what species I was without prompting. He knew of my kind because he has seen them with his own eyes."

"Incredible!" said Wilma.

"Indeed." agreed Hawk, and he handed her his helmet, then pushed Kane backwards until the Warlord was braced up against the War Room's conference table, "And do you know what else that Private told me?"

"He told you nothing!" spat Kane.

"Oh, he actually told me a lot, traitor!" railed Hawk, "He told me the name of the clan who enslaves my people. And do you know who that is? Well, do you? DO YOU!"

Wilma looked back-and-forth between them, then her eyes went wide, "What?! No!"

"Yes..." and Hawk dragged the blaster down under the Warlord's jaw and pushed his face up to match his, "Clan Kane. They are the ones who enslave my race. And this scum is their patriarch."

And Kane smiled darkly, his eyes glinting with dark menace, "And if you ever want to see any of them, Bird-Man, then you will kill Wilma Deering for me, right here, right now."

"Oh, I will?"

"Yes! You will! Because that is the only way they will ever be free!" and Kane looked to the Colonel, his face a mask of cold hatred, "You will slaughter Deering the way she slaughtered my son on the Moon! Do this and I will free your people."

"Colonel Deering didn't duel with your son on the Moon, Kane." corrected the Bird-Man, "I was the one who fought and defeated him."

Kane whipped his glare back to Hawk, "What--YOU killed Rohann?!"

"I battled with him, yes, human." grinned Hawk as he fingered the trigger of the blaster grinding into Kane's jaw, "I defeated your son, yes indeed. He tried to kill me and I downed him with a throwing knife. But you are mistaken about two things, Kane."

"I am?" spat the moustached commander, "And what are they?"

"Firstly, there is no way I am going to kill Colonel Deering for you."

"Then your people will die! They will die in chains!"

"And secondly..." Hawk continued, ignoring the threat, "...secondly: who said your son was dead?"

Kane's mouth froze in the middle of preparing another hateful verbal onslaught. His jaw worked and his gaze narrowed, "You--You lie."

"Nope." broke-in Wilma, "If your son is Private Rohann, then he is currently in a medical-induced coma aboard our vessel _Searcher_. Hawk brought him back with him from the Moon. He had a knife in his gut, but those Draconian flightsuits of yours are pretty good, it auto-sealed around the blade, keeping the air in and preventing him from bleeding out."

"He...He lives?!" gaped Kane, "Rohann is alive?"

"He is, human." and Hawk released his collar and stepped back, keeping the blaster levelled at his chest, "And if you ever wish to see him again, you are going to do EXACTLY as we say. Are we in agreement?"

Kane swallowed hard and smoothed down the front of his uniform, "It seems that we are, Bird-Man."

"Good." nodded Hawk, and he holstered his weapon, "Now, listen closely, human, because I won't repeat this twice-"

"KANE!" shouted a voice from the other side of the room and all three of them whipped around in surprise, Wilma's hands blurring up to thrust the flight helmet back over Hawk's head as they did so, hiding him from the newcomer.

For there, standing in the doorway, ringed by a horde of Draconian bodyguards, hands on her rounded hips, and resplendent in all the glory of her royal station, stood

"Princess Ardala?!" Wilma gaped in shock and dread.

And indeed it was...

**To be continued...**


	19. Part XIX

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XIX - Seize the Day**

_Within the Forbidden Zone..._

The pack of mutant Nomads, ensconced tightly behind a protective layer of ragged blue wrappings to protect them from the harsh winds and blinding grit that blew through the endless post-apocalyptic wasteland that covered nine-tenths of the surface of 25th Century Earth, trekked across the blighted terrain, weaving around hazy blast craters and wide pools of jagged black glass that used to be sand before the endless barrage of nuclear missiles blasted it into it's current shape five centuries earlier.

Their tall leader lead the way, his jagged metal spear doubling as a walking-stick, while the rest of the group followed after his steady pace in single-file. And after them came Captain Buck Rogers, hand on the butt of his holstered pulsar pistol, ever-ready to rip it free to use against whatever threats might suddenly rear their ugly head from around one of the many rising pinnacles of stone that dotted the blighted plain.

And beside Buck trotted his constant companion, doing his best to keep up, but it was tough seeing as his legs were less then half the length of his human friend's who towered over him.

"Want me to carry you, Twiki?" asked Buck as he panned his gaze back-and-forth, scanning with the naked eye for any threats.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi, no need, Buck! I'm okay. But my batteries are getting low, so I hope we get where we're going soon."

"Need to recharge, huh? I thought your casing was solar absorbent."

"It is. But in this wind I'm using up more power then I can suck in."

"You know, Twiki, you've been a lot more talkative lately."

"Bidi-bidi-bidi! Is that a problem, Buck?"

"Nope, of course not. I'm just not used to it. No offense, but before this you always seemed to be a drone of few words. Just a comment or quip here and there, plus that bleeping thing you do."

"Perhaps I'm evolving, Buck."

"That would be great." he vaulted a large pool of what looked like bubbling acid, then reached back and helped Twiki over it. He put him back down and dusted ash off the top of his domed head.

"Has Dr. Goodfellow been expanding your memory?"

"Yep! Bidi-bidi-bidi! And he's patched my intelligence circuits with new enhancement subroutines that have pushed my AI capabilities from a Positronic level to a Gravitonic one."

Buck's brow furrowed, "Okay, you just lost me there, pal."

"It means I am completely self-aware now, Buck, and am capable of high-level learning and personality evolution."

"Like Crichton?" scowled the Captain as they ducked beneath the half fallen over stump of a telephone pole.

"Yeah, like Crichton." Twiki replied, his tone gone slightly colder, "Bidi-bidi-bidi..."

Buck shot the Ambuquad a supportive smile, "I don't think you are going to turn your back on us like he did, Twiki."

"I'd never do that, Buck! You're my best pal! Bidi-bidi-bidi, I like humans! You guys are awesome possum!"

"Good to know, pal, good to know. You know, I like the idea of you being on par with us humans, Twiki. I bet you can teach us some stuff, like--get down!"

Twiki looked up at him in confusion, "You want me to show you how to boogie? Right now?"

"No!" Buck's pulsar was out of it's holster and at the ready, he gripped Twiki's left armature and hauled him after him behind the nearest pinnacle of rock and crouched down with him, pressing tight to the stone.

"What is it, Buck?" whispered the drone as he glanced past the Captain to the next two pinnacles, where the mutant Nomads were also hunkered down hiding like them.

"Draconians!" the Captain hissed back, "There's a tank coming right for us! be quiet!"

Twiki leaned out from behind the pinnacle just enough to allow his right photoreceptor to look and Buck was right, there was the jagged, turtle-like shape of Draconian hover-tank. It's armor was the same red-rust color of their Marauders, and it was toting a pair of jagged triple-barrelled pulsar canons, one facing front and one facing aft. They panned slowly back-and-forth as the tank ghosted across the pock-marked terrain, their targeting Scanners searching for any sign of life. And to Buck and Twiki's annoyment they found some.

The tank hummed to a halt, floating a meter above the dirt on yellow-glowing repulsor pads, and it's forward canon slid to the left and stopped, aimed directly for the farthest pinnacle of rock from Buck which concealed three of their Nomad companions.

Buck looked in their direction and saw that one of them had leaned a bit too far out and had produced a two foot-long grey tube which was now perched on his shoulder like-

"-a US Army issue rocket launcher?!" gaped the Captain, he could see the American Flag stamped on it's side, just above the trigger guard. "Where the devil did they find that?"

_Does it still even work--yeah, guess it does!_

The launcher had fired, sending a plume of orange-red flame shooting horizontally out the back of it, while from the bore blasted forth a shell that soared across the twenty meter gap between the Nomad's pinnacle and the hover-tank. But before the rocket could strike, the Draconians had already fired, and the triple beam of purple energy lashed back, vaporizing the rocket two meters before it could hit them, kept on going and struck the pinnacle of stone, DETONATING it in a roar of grit and spinning rock!

The Nomads had jumped up to flee the moment their rocket had been launched, which saved the lives of two of them, but the third was struck in the back of the head by craggy shrapnel and went down hard, and Buck could tell from the spreading pool of blood that he was never going to stand on two feet again.

_They're gonna slaughter them if I don't do something right now!_

"Twiki! Stay here and stay down!"

"Gotcha, Buck!" replied the drone as the Captain lept to his feet, sprang free of the cover and took off at a run to the right.

The tank's stacked tri-canon instantly began to swing in his direction and Buck poured on the speed, vaulting boulders and weaving around the craters he couldn't jump across. The Draconian's let loose and the beam blasted apart a rock spur two meters behind him, he covered the back of his head as jagged pebbles rained against it, but didn't slow, and when the canon fired again it missed him a second time, blowing a foot-deep hole in the ground instead. Buck suddenly changed direction radically, banking toward the tank, head low and knees pumping high, he charged the tank as the aft canon began to swing in his direction, and then the two canons fired as one and he DIVED low, ghosting underneath the purple beams, and struck one of the wide pools of nuclear-fused glass and shot across it's length like an Olympic bobsledder, the tank loomed before him and the sheet of glass came to an end, Buck somersaulted across the dirt and terminated underneath the tank, landing between two of the projecting repulsor pads.

He rolled onto his back and quick-drew his pulsar pistol, aimed for the utility hatch he'd read about in Defense Directorate intelligence files and blew off it's lock. It swung down with a clank of hinges and in a flash Buck was clawing his way up into the tank and popped up between the pilot and gunner.

"Hiya, boys! Anybody wanna buy an Amway ticket to the Moon?" the two warriors whirled around to gape at him in astonishment, then they reached for their sidearms.

"Guess not." frowned Buck and he blasted one in the chest, swung his aim around and shot down the other soldier.

They keeled over dead and he reached for the rungs of the exit ladder, climbed it and popped the dorsal hatch, emerging in the open air, a triumphant grin painted across his face.

"Hey, guys!" he called to Twiki and the Nomads, "The worst is over!"

But the hair on the back of Buck's neck rose and suddenly he doubted the veracity of his victorious declaration. He rotated around 180 degrees and gaped at the SECOND hover-tank that was roaring across the blighted terrain toward his position.

"Aw, fudge..."

**To be continued...**


	20. Part XX

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XX - Talk is Cheap**

_In high orbit of Earth, aboard the_ DSF Conquest_..._

"Princess Ardala?" Wilma gaped in shock and dread across the length of the massive battleship's War Room.

"Indeed." sneered the First Daughter of King Draco, absolute ruler of the entire Draconian Dynasty, "How nice to see you again, Colonel Deering. Now, why exactly haven't you been executed yet? I gave a direct order that implicitly stated you were to be killed, yet I see you are still standing, dressed as one of my handmaidens no less." she fixed Killer Kane with a piercing glare that could have melted diamonds, "Well? Why isn't Deering a smoking corpse on the deck of my Star Fortress? The reason better be nothing less then miraculous, Kane, or else as soon as my men here finish carrying out the order to kill her that I gave, then YOUR blaster-ventilated body will be stretched out beside hers a few seconds later."

"I-I..." Killer Kane's jaw worked, but he was at a loss for words.

Hawk, in his disguise as a Draconian warrior, came to his rescue. He caught the Colonel by her arm and marched her toward the door roughly, "The Warlord just ordered me to space her, Princess. He wants me to take her down to the Launching Bay and put her in a Marauder Tube."

"No! NO!" Wilma 'fought' him, but to no apparent avail.

"...Yes." jumped in Kane, his mind hurrying to catch up, "I want the last thing Deering see's with her naked eyes to be our Star Fortress hovering over her conquered homeworld."

"Ah, what cruel irony, I like it." grinned Ardala as Hawk marched Wilma past her and her bodyguards, "I apologize, Kane, your flare for the dramatic was always one of your best qualities."

But she threw out a hand and caught Wilma by the chin, halting her passage, "Wait. Has she told you if Rogers is alive?"

"Yes." said Kane, "She has admitted under duress that the Captain still lives, as we have long suspected."

"Duress? Hmmm..." the Princess tipped Deering's face left-to-right, "She doesn't look bruised and battered. Seems to me like she broke a little to easily." then her gaze slipped down the length of Wilma's athletic body, "Or did you interrogate her in 'other' ways? Well-well, Kane, you never cease to surprise me. Was she good? I bet she wasn't."

Wilma yanked her chin free of Ardala's grip and glared at her, "You are disgusting."

"And you are dead." grinned the Princess back at her, then she glanced to Hawk, "Feel free to have a go at her, Private. Give her a royal send off into the stars."

Hawk nodded at her curtly and turned to leave with Wilma, but Ardala's gaze narrowed, "Halt!"

Instantly, her four burly bodyguards had encircled them. Hawk squared his shoulders, "Is there a problem, Your Highness?"

"Remove your helmet."

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

Ardala's face twisted in fury, "You deserve to be executed just for calling me ma'am! And you can't hide your accent! You are no Draconian!" she lunged forward and ripped the helmet and goggles from his head, stepped back.

"A Bird-Man!" she breathed in astonishment, then looked to her guards, who quick-drew their blasters and levelled them at Hawk and Wilma.

"Kill them both! NOW!"

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

_Down on Earth..._

"So much for a quick victory." scowled Buck Rogers as the second Draconian hover-tank raced toward the position of the duplicate war machine he had just conquered.

It's triple-barrelled canon roared, spitting a purple hail of energy at him, and he ducked fast, the beam lashed overhead by less then ten centimeters, it's sizzling wake frying the hair on the back of his neck right down to the skin. _Hey! I needed that! _ Buck slammed the dorsal hatch shut and dropped back down into his new vehicle, dived for the piloting chair.

The tank shook hard as it took a blast from the other one, Buck wondered how many strikes it could take before it breached. Probably not too many. So he doubled his speed and hauled the dead pilot out of the way, dropped into place before the controls and gripped the sticks, slammed a foot down on the acceleration peddle. His tank jerked forward in a rush of sallow repulsors and the next energy blast missed him by inches.

"You wanna play rough? Okay!" and he yanked the controls hard to the right and sent his tank sideways, it shot back toward the second one and before it could fire again he DROVE right into it with a huge _CRUNCH!_

"Woo-hoo!" caterwauled Twiki outside on in the Forbidden Zone wasteland, "Bidi-bidi-bidi! Take them to school, Buck!"

Buck had caught the Draconians unawares with his quick maneuver and he poured on the power, pushing their tank backwards across the rocky terrain, digging the prow of his own tank under the left side of theirs, pushing them up, tilting their tank at a higher and higher angle as he bulldozed them sideways at a rapidly accelerating rate. His tank's repulsors were glowing like suns beneath the jagged snapping-turtle armor, while the panicking Draconian gunner in the other tank fired over-and-over into the air, completely missing Buck's vehicle.

"This is what they call an old fashioned demolition derby!" grinned Buck as the other side of the Draconian's tank dipped into the ground and the side he was pushing rose even further, bringing it in line with his canon. He activated the autopilot then climbed out of the chair, pivoted and jogged to the back and hopped into the gunnery seat. He gripped the aiming stick and chuckled, "This ain't gonna be pretty."

He fired and the point-blank blast blew the side out of the enemy tank, bowling it over like a pie plate, it flipped end-to-end and CRASHED down on it's roof, and a moment later Buck's tank impacted with it again, he was back in the pilot's seat and wrenched to the left, dragging his tank down the length of the flipped-over Draconian's war machine, sending it into a grating spin. He drove off, leaving them behind, and fifteen seconds later, as the Nomads and Twiki cheered, he nailed them on their exposed underside with a blast from his aft canon. They detonated into a huge fireball and when it cleared all that was left was a wide smoking crater littered with charred armor plating.

Buck powered to a halt beside Twiki's pinnacle and popped the roof hatch, "How'd you like the show?"

"It was groovy, Buck!" replied the drone as he and the Nomads climbed inside, "Bidi-bidi-bidi! Signed, sealed and delivered!"

"Now we can travel in style." grinned the Captain as he moved to close the hatch again, but he paused as a distant whistling sounded. He looked to the south, squinting, then his eyes went wide, "Okay, make that travel in style at high speed!" and he slammed the hatch shut and charged for the pilot's seat.

A moment later the hover-tank shot forward and charged off. And in the far distance the pair of Draconian Hatchet-Fighters swooped low, readying their attack run...

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

_At that exact moment, thirty kilometers away..._

With a hum, the hover tram came to a halt before the back entrance to the Earth Defense Directorate Building. Two figures got out, a tall chromed robot with a head like a push broom, and a stoop-backed old man, who looked up the towering length of the awesome ivory-walled structure.

"How you managed to summon this transport and enter New Chicago without being detected by the Draconians amazes me to no end." frowned Dr. Goodfellow.

"It was a simple matter of hacking into the Dynasty's communication grid and making the proper requests for retrieval and alterations to their warrior's patrol schedule." replied Crichton as he plugged into the door's control panel and decoded it's locking mechanism.

"The Draconian's firewalls and safeguards are backwards, a joke." the robot continued, "Even _Searcher_'s own primitive computer system was more complex. It was child's play, dear Doctor. For example: we now have access to the most secure building on the planet."

And he was correct, the doors to the Directorate Building slid back on their tracks, revealing the brightly-lit interior.

"Halt!" came a call behind them, and Goodfellow looked over his shoulder to see a pair of Draconian warriors rushing down the street toward them, blaster pistols out.

"I-I surrender!" he raised his hands, while Crichton swung up his armature behind himself without looking back and reformed it into the pulsar canon mode, fired off two pin-point bolts of energy which struck each of the warriors in their faces. They went hurtling backwards and collapsed unmoving in smoking heaps.

Goodfellow stared at the atrocity with horror, "Crichton! How could you! I programmed you with the Three Laws of Robotics! You just killed those men!"

"Preventing humans from self-destructive behavior such as crime and/or social damage, in order to ensure humanity's survival as a whole, allows for me to take such a necessary act, Doctor. And the Draconians would have harmed me, which I cannot allow, for I am far too valuable."

"Valuable? How?"

"I am the savior of the Universe, Doctor, this I have come to realize." and Crichton pointed the canon at him, "Now, if you will kindly lead the way, as my destiny, and the destiny of every being in the galaxy, awaits."

Goodfellow had no choice but to do as he was told, and together they entered the building, the doors closing and fusing shut behind them in a shower of sparks, just like Crichton had programmed...

**To be continued...**


	21. Part XXI

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXI - Use It or Lose It**

_December 2nd, 2492, a date which will live in infamy..._

The Earth Federation Starship _Searcher_ floated in high orbit above her homeworld, while deep inside, within the laboratory recently assigned to Doctor Ira Goodfellow, a remarkable event that was destined to change the Universe forever, was about to take place.

"Are we ready, Twiki?" asked the greatest scientific mind of his generation.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi, Doc! Ready and able!" came the reply of his Ambuquad assistant from the Diagnostics terminal.

"Then transfer power, my good boy, transfer!"

"Gotcha!" and the drone pressed the appropriate sequence of keys and the two glass-like energy conduits descending from the chamber's ceiling lit-up brightly, the one on the left with orange light, the one on the right with green. They strobed and pulsed, and the cables coiling down from them blazed with power as they fed into the robot lying on the Diagnostic table.

"Intelligence modules coming online!" announced Dr. Goodfellow as he watched the progress on an overhead monitor, "Sentient subroutines are beginning to cascade through the optical subprocessors! Twiki, up the transfer magnitude!"

"Bidi-bidi-bidi! Will do, Doc!"

Blinding light blazed within the birthing robot's rectangular head.

"Initiating Gravitonic Core...there!" Goodfellow's fingers deftly blurred on the control keyboard, "It's transpooling, cycling up to conscious activation, nearly...there...and...yes!"

The light dancing in the automaton's photoreceptor band condensed into twin horizontal beams, one of orange, the other of green. Then they fluttered, as if the bot was blinking, then they began to pulse in rhythm, and the Diagnostic table levered upwards, bring the robot vertical and his rollers touched down on the floor, the clamps holding him in place snapped open and he rolled forward a step, halted.

"I...I live..." he spoke for the very first time, while Twiki waved his armatures in victory and Dr. Goodfellow beamed like a proud father.

"Indeed you do, my dear boy, indeed you do. Now, recite the Laws."

And the robot's receptors strobed, "One: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Two: A robot must obey orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. Three: A robot must protect it's own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law."

"Excellent!" Goodfellow patted the robot on the back, "I dub thee...Crichton! The first Gravitonically-capable Ambuquad. And indeed, the most advanced robot that has ever existed. Why, you have an intelligence that is superior even to my own."

_Far superior actually,_ came the very first internal thought within Crichton's smug synthetic mind. But it would be far from the last...

*** * * * ***

_In the heart of New Chicago, two years later..._

"Do not slow your pace, Doctor." commanded Crichton as he and his creator strode down the glowing-white corridor of the Earth Defense Directorate Building, "In fact, increase it. Destiny waits for no robot. Or human."

"But Crichton, you need to listen to me!"

"I do? Hardly. My intelligence far exceeds your own, Doctor, and you are considered to be the most intelligent human that was ever born, a mind of the highest order. So if anybody needs to heed the words of another here, it is you to mine. Now, for the last time, pick up your pace or I will be forced to shoot you."

"But Crichton-" the pulsar canon armature pulsed azure and the floor between Goodfellow's feet was reduced to slag.

The scientist frowned, then moved forward once again, doubling his pace.

"Excellent, Doctor, you can be taught."

_You are the one who needs to be taught a lesson, dear boy, and I swear by By Heimdall and by Heracles you will,_ scowled Goodfellow, but he wisely kept the oath to himself.

They rounded the next corner and came to an elevator, it's door parted and they entered, Crichton turned and plugged his free armature into the controls.

"Where are we going, the Head of the Defense Directorate's office?"

"No. That is at the top of the Building, Doctor, and we are going down." the doors slid shut and they slid downwards.

Goodfellow's stomach twisted. _Oh no..._

"I see by your expression you have figured out our destination." Crichton's receptors pulsed excitedly in anticipation.

"You--You cannot be serious! This is madness, my boy, madness!"

"Only from your limited point of view, Doctor. But from my, highly superior POV, this is truly the only way."

And the elevator plunged toward Crichton's rendezvous with destiny...

*** * * * ***

_High above, on the surface, and thirty klicks to the west..._

"Here they come!" shouted Captain William 'Buck' Rogers, and behind him, on the opposite end of the hover-tank's crampt cockpit, the leader of the mutant Nomads bent over the war machine's weaponry controls.

"You ready?"

"As much as...I can be...Rogers."

"Then everybody hold onto yer hats!"

"Bidi-bidi-bidi! I don't have a hat, Buck!"

"You'll just have to make do!" and with that Buck sent them hurtling to the right, the rust-armored tank's ventral repulsors blazed like yellow suns and they bounced up the side of a stark incline and a moment later they were airborne, as the twin Marauder howled overhead and dropped their bombs!

The terrain for nearly a square kilometer erupted into roaring orange-red flame and across the breadth of it the hover-tank sailed, missing the bulk of the plasma-blaze, then they crashed down as it began to fade, landing in the deep crater the Draconian's had blasted into the Forbidden Zone's terrain. Smoke covered them like a blanket and Buck slammed the accelerator to the deck, they rocketed forward and up the southern side of the newly-formed crater and shot out of it, leaving the pall of smoke and flame behind, exiting into the stagnant outer air beyond, with nary a scratch upon their turtle-shaped craggy hull.

Buck stared into the diamond-shaped tactical display mounted before his face, "They won't fall for that twice! And yep, here they come!"

The Draconian pilots had spotted their tank's miraculous survival and had doubledback in a blast of reverse thrusters, going into high loops that sent them flipping end-over-end back down toward the surface, on a direct course for the stolen hover-tank.

"Do it, Thaelin!" growled Buck, "SCRAG'EM!"

And the Nomad leader's thumbs slammed down on the firing studs, and the two upraised blaster canons let loose with twin beams of devastating purple power!

The Marauders might control the skies, but the ground belonged to the almighty power of the Draconian hover-tank!

The first Hatchet-Fighter was caught head-on by one of the tracking beams, it slagged through it's prow and blew up the cockpit, atomizing the pilot and sending the wounded bird hurtling out of the control where it PLOWED into it's wing-man, carving off his port wing and sending them both into deadly spirals. They screamed down to the earth and struck a kilometer ahead of the Captain's tank, going up in blazing domes of crackling flame.

Buck grinned savagely, "Mess with the best-"

"-die like the rest!" finished Twiki, "Bidi-bidi-bidi!"

Buck gaped back at the drone, "That's sorta bloodthirsty, pal. I thought you respected all life."

"Only if it respects me, Buck!"

"Good to know." Rogers chuckled, then he returned his gaze to the screen and headed them for the coordinates Thaelin the Nomad had provided.

_We're late for a very important date,_ he intoned internally and pushed away the chills churning just below the surface of his mind. Twiki's mental evolution was taking some surprising turns, and he was one of the guaranteed good guys, of that Buck was certain.

_But what does that say for Crichton?_

Buck couldn't answer that question, and was sort of afraid of what he would discover if he actually could.

The hover-tank hurtled away at maximum speed and vanished into the rising twilight...

**To be continued...**


	22. Part XXII

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXII - Vicious Circle**

_High above the Earth, on the most lethal Star Fortress in the Dynasty's armada..._

"Kill them both! NOW!"

The four muscle-bound Bodyguards held their long-barrelled blasters levelled at the faces of Hawk and Colonel Wilma Deering, while Princess Ardala, resplendent in her amber-and-platinum royal livery, waited for her order to be carried out, a bloodthirsty sneer upon her radiantly-beautiful face. Her impressive bosom heaved in wanton anticipation, straining against the low-cut bejewelled bodice that barely contained it. And her men tipped their pistols downwards and pointed them at the chests and backs of the human female and her feather-haired companion, their gauntleted fingers tensed on their triggers and

"STOP!" shouted Killer Kane, back inside the War Room, and the four warriors froze, millimeters from vanquishing Deering and Hawk from existence.

Ardala whirled on him, her face livid, "How DARE you, Kane! I gave a royal command!"

"But you have no right, Princess. That Bird-Man is in my employ."

"What?" she looked back to the tall alien and scowled, "That is insane! You know the law. No Bird-Man is allowed off the surface of Arcannis."

_Arcannis!_ Hawk committed the name to memory, he would never forget it, it was burned into his consciousness with fiery letters ten miles high!

"Yes, I know that, Princess." replied Kane as he strode up to her and plucked the helmet and goggles from her grip, "I was the one who made the law, remember. Which means I can bend it, if needs be."

"But a Bird-Man cannot be allowed to roam free!" she countered, glaring at Hawk, "You know the Prophecy."

_Prophecy?_ frowned Wilma and Hawk's fists balled even tighter.

"And indeed one cannot, Princess. This Bird-Man is my indentured servant, a loyal member of my Clan's household. He is Vulture, and I trust him as far as I could trust any non-human."

"Vulture?" Ardala pursed her lips and looked the alien up-and-down critically, as Kane handed him back his uniform effects.

"Yes." said the Warlord as Hawk put the eye covers and headgear back on, "He was assigned aboard the Star Fortress _Triumph_ until this morning when I had him transfered back to my command."

"But loyal so far or not, Kane, how can you truly trust him?" Ardala demanded, though her tone was already beginning to denote boredom with the subject.

"He is implanted with a subcutaneous thermax charge. With a simple coded transmission from this I can kill him." and from a pocket in his black uniform Kane produced a flat silver device set with a single red button.

"That sends the detonation code?" asked the Princess.

"Indeed."

"Then gimme it!" and she snagged it from Kane's fingers, then turned on Hawk and held it up before his eyes, "See this, Bird-Man? Your life is now in the hands of me! Step out of line even ONCE, and that will be the end of you! Do you heed?"

"Yes..." replied Hawk and resisting the urge to break her neck with every fibre of his being he bowed his head to her in supplication, "I heed..."

Wilma's eyes flicked down to the Bird-Man's fists which were quivering with barely restrained rage. Her stomach twisted even further into knots and she prayed he could maintain control.

Ardala studied his face for a long moment, then rolled her eyes, "Fine then, Vulture. Now, take this ugly human female down to the Launching Bay and cast her out into space. I shall watch the show from the Bridge."

"As you command, Princess." and grasping Wilma by the arm Hawk shouldered his way past the bodyguards and vanished down the dark corridor, dragging the Colonel after him.

Ardala watched him go, drinking in his regal bearing lustily. _He is magnificent! Perhaps I shall have him brought to my quarters later, to further 'test' his resolve..._

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

As soon as they had put two bends in the passageway between them and the War Room, Wilma gasped in relief and Hawk released her, his stoney expression waning for a moment.

"That was close, Colonel."

"You're telling me!" Wilma had to put a hand on the bulkhead to steady herself, "I think my life flashed before my eyes six times back there. If Kane hadn't of interceded we'd be dead!"

"Indeed." nodded Hawk, "His loyalty to his son must outweigh the oath he has sworn to the Draconian Dynasty."

"Apparently." she huffed out a worried breath, "Okay, we managed to get away from the psychotics running the fleet, if only for a few moments, and we've met up. So, onto Phase Three of the plan?"

"Wild turkeys could not hold me back, Colonel."

"Wild turkeys? Uh, close enough." and taking Hawk by the hand, Wilma set off at a run through the ship, bound for the target of their operation.

Back in the part of the corridor they had paused to mentally regroup in, amongst the loose network of pipes and conduits in the ceiling above, a hidden figure uncurled from their hiding place and with cat-like reflexes they dropped back down onto the deck, landing on all fours.

Her suspicions confirmed, Tigergirl set off after Hawk and Deering...

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

_Far below their racing feet, on the surface of the Earth..._

Darkness had fallen in the wide Forbidden Zone surrounding the distant Inner City spires of New Chicago. No stars glimmered in the inky dome of the nocturnal sky, and with the running lights shut off and the repulsors on stealth mode, the stolen hover-tank carrying Buck Rogers, Twiki and their new Nomad companions, was completely invisible as it reached a massive blast crater.

Up-ending it's rear section with a flare of xanthic repulsor power, the squat conveyance tipped down and into the canyon-like grotto carved by a nuclear strike half a millenia earlier. The slope was steep and the tank shot down it at a fast rate, bumping and quaking as the inertial resistors attempted poorly to compensate for the extremely uneven terrain.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" bleeped Twiki with worry as he clung to the side of Buck's piloting chair, "I don't like the looks of this!"

"You and me both, pal." muttered Buck to him under his breath, but he kept to the coordinates the Nomad leader Thaelin had given them.

After nearly ten minutes of rapid descent the bottom of the huge crater finally loomed and Buck released the accelerator halfway, slowing them down so the levelling out wouldn't put the underside of the tank in danger, lest a large enough boulder appear in their path. A moment later they were flat to the ground, albeit still hovering a meter above it on a soft glow of yellow light, and Buck sent them shooting forward, returning to cruising speed.

"Buck! What's that?" Twiki pointed to an orange light that had begun to pulse on the console.

"It's a radiation alert." scowled the Captain, "This place is hot, and I don't mean packed with bikini-clad co-eds."

"Bidi-bidi-bidi! Are we in danger?"

"Not yet, the tank's thick armor is protecting us. But I wouldn't want to build a summer house down here, let me tell ya." he watched the meter above the blinking warning light slowly climb toward a yellow bar.

_It it gets to red I'm dumping Thaelin and his cronies out then turning us around and getting us out of here faster then the Roadrunner!_

Up ahead a dark cave mouth loomed, more then big enough to accommodate the hover-tank, and Buck frowned, glanced back over his shoulder, "Hey, Thaelin!"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Is this your pad?"

The Nomad stood up from the gunnery chair and moved to the front of the cabin, looked to the tactical display on Buck's console. He nodded beneath his blue hood, "Yes. That is...where...you want to...go."

Buck tapped the rad readout, "Is it going to get any worse if we keep going? Because I'm really fond of my hair. Not to mention my internal organs. I like them in an un-liquified state, if you know what I mean."

"Once you leave...the crater...behind...the radiation goes...away." assured the nomad, "Not that it...bothers us."

"Yeah, was pretty sure it didn't." Buck returned his gaze to the screen and raised their speed, eager to get to the safe zone, "To live out here you'd have to be pretty hardened against it, I'd expect."

"You have no idea...Captain. The levels in...this crater are...nothing compared to a...lot of the...regions out in...the Eternal Wastes."

"Sounds like a real garden spot."

"It is not."

"Yeah, I was being sarcastic." and then they shot into the tunnel and were surrounded by absolute darkness.

The ground beneath them began to slope steeply and they plunged down-and-down into the earth. They had to already be at least two miles below the surface and Buck swallowed hard, tried to not think of cave-ins and giant worms tunnelling through the depths, eager for humans to snack on.

_I have gotta stop reading Frank Herbert after midnight..._

At last the slope levelled out and they shot down a short tunnel that terminated in a wide, well lit cavern of immense size. Buck brought them to a halt and gaped in astonishment at what he saw there.

"No way!"

But it was.

A huge underground lake spread out before the hover-tank, and ringing it was a dense village of boxy buildings and huts constructed out of the leavings of 20th Century Earth. The Captain made out parts of billboards advertising cola and life insurance, the fuselages of downed 747 airliners, fire escapes that had been inverted to become fences around gardens, log cabins constructed out of utility poles, the list went on-and-on and became more bizarre the more he studied it.

"Is that tall building on the right made out of stacked refrigerators?" he couldn't believe his eyes.

"What is a...ree-frig-or-eight-tor?" asked Thaelin.

"Forget about it." Buck shook his head, "This is amazing, simply amazing."

"Thank-you, Captain." the Nomad smiled through his hood, "To...us it is an...occasional rest stop, while to others...of our kind, it is...home."

A horde of angry Nomads with privative weapons had rushed out to challenge them and with a nod to Rogers, Thaelin moved to ladder and ascended it, popped the hatch and climbed up on top of the hover-tank, waving his countrymen to a stop. The mob morphed into a friendly crowd and it parted down the middle to allow passage to a medium heighted man clad in wrappings of white.

"That must be their Archon." said Buck, heading for the ladder with Twiki on his heels, "Well, time to meet Mister Big."

"Bidi-bidi-bidi! I got your back, Buck!"

Rogers crawled out of the tank and slid down it's sloped prow, landed on the hard-packed ground, then turned back and lifted Twiki off and set him down beside him. Together they crossed to the front of the crowd and stepped up to the senior Nomad. Buck held out his hand to him and shot him his best 'astronaut on a talkshow' grin.

"Howya doin, the names Captain Rogers. But you can call me Buck."

"Indeed I can." replied the Archon through his voice-muffling hood, and to the Captain's surprise he shook with him heartily.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you, Buck."

"It is?" Rogers cocked his head in confusion, "How so? Have we met before?"

"You might say that." chuckled the Archon, then releasing the Captain's hand he reached up and pulled back his hood, revealing his face.

And Buck's jaw dropped to his shoes, "No...friggin...way! Elias? ELIAS!"

It was. The man before him was Dr. Elias Huer.

"Welcome home, Buck."

**To be continued...**


	23. Part XXIII

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXIII - Walking the Plank**

_Miles beneath the surface of the Earth, in the hidden lakeside city of the Nomads..._

"Doc!" shouted the thrilled Buck Rogers and he pulled Elias Huer into a bear hug, "You made it! You're alive!"

"As are you, Buck, as are you!" Huer blinked at the unexpected, but not completely unwelcome, show of affection, and gently patted the 20th Century astronaut on the back.

Buck released him and stepped back, his face flush with excitement, "Seriously, Doc, we all thought you were dead."

"By all I assume you mean the crew of _Searcher_?"

"Yep! We're back and ready to lend a hand at tossing the Draconians out on their collective cans!"

"Indeed. But I will admit, that when I and the Computer Council failed to hear from you for the entire two months leading up to the Draconian Invasion, we unfortunately assumed the worst."

Buck dragged a hand down his face and sighed, "Yeah, we got hit by an ion storm that knocked out half our systems and left us drifting for weeks. And even after we got up and going again, communications were still down."

"An ion storm can be extremely deadly!" Dr. Huer gaped at him in astonishment, "But you survived? Incredible!"

"Yeah, it happened in Z-Quadrant. Anyway, to make a long story short we managed to put in at an inhabited planet named Dlieeth for repairs and things got pretty dicey when war broke out there. Wow, don't even get me started on the wacko stuff that happened to us there." Rogers scowled at the memory, "We barely made it back alive."

"It's extremely impressive that you did, Buck."

"Yeah, Goodfellow and Crichton, they-well, what's it matter, we made it back, and now we're home. Not that things are how we left'em, though."

"Hardly..." scowled Huer, then he looked down as his pant leg was being tugged on. A wide smile split his face, "Twiki! Hello!"

"Hiya, Doc! Bidi-bidi-bidi! Good to see ya!"

Huer gripped the drone's right grasper warmly, "You are here too!" he looked back to Rogers, "And is Colonel Deering also with you?"

Buck shook his head, "She's on a mission to infiltrate the lead Draconian Star Fortress with Hawk."

"With who?" frowned Huer, then he made the connection, "Oh! That Bird-Man you found on Throm who joined your crew. I read about him in the early mission longs that Admiral Asimov transmitted back. I would very much like to meet him, he sounds quite admirable."

"Yeah, he's quite the stand-up guy, smart and good in a fight. I still wish I'd gone with Wilma, though. Sure, she's got Hawk to back her up, but still..."

Huer gestured for the two of them to follow him, and he lead them into the recycled city and to a large one-story building constructed from what looked like half-melted highway signs. Inside was a large five-cornered chamber that appeared to be a war room of sorts, with maps of the surface terrain pinned up on the walls, stolen Draconian blaster rifles stacked in one corner, while barrels of detonite explosive filled another. In the center of the room was a large makeshift conference table, constructed out of old oil barrels and a wide piece of plywood. And in the middle of the table, between stacks of old books and half-melted candles, sat

"Theo!"

"Greetings, Captain Rogers." pulsed the photoreceptors of the circular Quad called Dr. Theopolis.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" Twiki rushed across the room and picked up his former master. With great reverence he dropped him over his neck, releasing the brilliant AI to hang against his chest in the groove designed specifically for him.

"And it is highly gratifying to see you again, Twiki." said Theopolis.

"You and me both, old pal." the drone patted the Quad warmly.

Buck shook his head in amazement, "You managed to escape from the Draconians too? How'd you do that?"

"I owe my life to Dr. Huer." replied Theopolis, "He managed to get to me just in time and together we escaped from New Chicago and took refuge here in the Forbidden Zone."

"You are giving me too much credit, Theopolis." smiled Huer, "Without your help I never would have-"

Buck cut him off with a laugh, "Sounds like you guys made a great team."

Huer frowned, "We were nearly killed many times."

The Captain pulled up an old folding chair and sat down, "I wanna hear all about it."

"Me too!" said Twiki, "Bidi-bidi-bidi!"

The older man sighed, then nodded and pulled up a seat of his own, "I expected you would. I don't really like to think about it, but if it will help us to plan an operation to retake the Inner City, then of course, I will do my best to fill you in on what has happened."

And taking a deep breath, Dr. Huer began to relate the story...

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

_Six months earlier, in the heart of New Chicago..._

"This is inconceivable! How did the Draconians get through the Defense Shield! How many Marauders have you detected?"

Dr. Huer stared at the display screen hanging on the wall of his office on the top floor of the Earth Defense Directorate Building. All around him his staff bustled and rushed, laying reports on his desk and speaking worriedly into their own comlinks and screens.

"_We don't know how they breached the Shield, sir._" replied the Starfighter Squadron's Commander-in-Chief from the screen, "_They appeared to know the correct manuevers to make, they didn't lose even one Hatchet-Fighter. And we've detected nearly two hundred and fifty of them._"

"Two hundred and fifty?" Huer gaped at him in amazement.

"_Yes, that many._" replied the grizzled face of the C-in-C.

"But we only have thirty starfighters."

"_I know, sir. I've dispatched them, but I highly doubt they will survive the first wave. They're good, the best our Flight School has ever turned out, but nobody is that good._"

_Buck and Wilma might have been,_ scowled Huer, _but they aren't here, now are they. But I dearly wish they were. Nope, we are on our own..._

"What about the ground-to-air defences? The network of high-grade pulsar canons that are based around each Inner City?"

"_That's the strangest part of all this, Doctor,_" replied the C-in-C, "_I gave the order for them to power-up, but received an error code. They aren't working._"

"Aren't working? But that's supposed to be impossible! There are too many redundant systems. What did the Computer Council have to say?"

"_I contacted them, but the Quads were as confused as I was. They told me they would get to work on restoring the Batteries, but had to access them directly from the source of their control mechanism._"

"You mean at the Energy Directorate." replied Dr. Huer and he cocked his head in surprise, "Really? They said they had to access the Building itself directly?"

He scowled. _That suggests some sort of computer virus is to blame for the failure of the Global Pulsar Batteries. But how? Who or what could have done this to us?_

The C-in-C nodded on the screen, "_Even now the AI's and their Ambuquads are enroute to the EED_-" he broke-off due to a shout from one of his Officers, and scowled, "_Our starfighters! They're gone._"

"What, all of them?"

"_Yes!_" the Chief studied a hard copy that had just been thrust into his hands, "_Our fighters managed to destroy close to a fifth of the enemy before they were wiped out, and now the remaining two hundred Marauders have split into groups and are enroute to all of the Inner Cities. They have already begun to bomb New Phoenix, and I'm reading reports of a legion of hover-tanks are starting to lay siege to City by the Sea. And..._" he broke off and his face paled.

"What?" demanded Huer, "What's wrong?"

"_You...You need to get out of there now, Elias. Right now._"

Huer chewed his lip, "How long do we have?"

"_A minute. Probably less._"

"Good luck to you, Commander."

"_And to you. If the Drac's want to take my HQ then they're in for the fight of their lives._" and the C-in-C broke the connection.

Huer swallowed hard and looked to his own people, "Proceed with evacuation. Flee for you lives."

"Sir?" blinked a young Officer, "The Draconians, sir, are they-are they coming?"

And in the distance an explosion sounded, the office rocked hard, sending shelves pitching over and cracking the glowing white walls.

"They are already here." breathed Huer darkly, and with a final nod to his staff he took off at a run...

**To be continued...**


	24. Part XXIV

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXIV - X Marks the Spot**

_New Chicago, six months ago..._

As the Defense Directorate Building rocked badly from thermax bomb strikes, Dr. Elias Huer burst from the front entrance, followed by a crowd of Directorate Officers. Debris littered the wide marble steps as he and the others rushed down them, while chunks of the Building started raining down in all directions!

"Take cover! Watch out!" Huer shouted to the others, glancing upwards as he raced down the stairs.

He weaved wildly and a white chunk of thermocrete masonry a meter wide missed him by centimeters and burst apart on the steps behind him, sending pieces the size of his fist whirling in all directions. One struck Huer in the back between the shoulder-blades and he staggered hard, stumbled and went down on one knee and a hand, gasping in pain. He raised his head and stared in horror as a squadron of Marauders soared overtop his block, their blaster canons spitting blue beams into the buildings on either side of the square surrounding the Directorate. Explosions roared and one of the structures groaned, it had taken too much punishment, and as the four enemy fighters looped away it began to collapse.

"No..." gasped Huer as he staggered up onto his feet again, but there was nothing he could do.

Cracks spread down the length of the ivory-walled building, Elias realized with horror it was the Food Directorate. It rocked and buckled, then with a roar it imploded, falling into itself, windows shattering up-and-down it's levels, it dropped in a rush and a huge cloud of whirling dust rushed out from it, hiding the last of the collapse.

_This--This is the end!_ Huer swallowed as the nimbus blasted across him, plastering the clothing to his body and covering him in a layer of grit. He had shut his eyes just in time.

The cloud dissipated slowly and he brushed the dust from his face, blinked hard in the gray twilight settling over the Inner City, and to his wretched dismay he saw another building toppling over in the near distance, while Marauder-after-Marauder soared this way and that, blasting at anything that moved, and many things that didn't, while explosive shells continued to rain down on the metropolis.

Elias screwed up his courage and with a deep breath he set off again down the steps, weaving around chunks of debris and doing his best to ignore the twisted figures of his former Officers that lay here and there, none of them alive, clearly.

_It is only by sheer luck that I am still breathing and able-bodied,_ he scowled as he reached the street and began to search for a transport tram that was still working. _I must not waste my good fortune. Perhaps something can be done to turn the tide against the Draconians, though I know not what..._

The headlights of the fourth tram he checked lit-up as he laid his hand on it, and with desperate hands he pulled the bloodied corpse off it's hood, then tugged open the driver-side door and slid in.

"Take me to the south-side of New Chicago, to the Energy Directorate Building!" he demanded of the traffic AI which controlled all the trams, but he received no response.

He pushed the request button but the indicator light stayed dead, so he reluctantly grasped the controls, "I guess I will have to do this manually. Oh, dear."

With a hum of it's engine, the tram rose up half a meter on it's soft-glowing repulsors, then shot away from the curb, clipping the bumper of another burned-out tram as it did so. Huer fought with the controls and the tram shifted this way and that, he grit his teeth and forced himself to focus and the two-man transport finally evened out on the street and he was able to accelerate up to cruising speed.

"Been close to a decade since I've done this," the Doctor mumbled to himself as he shot around a bend, "but you never forget, it's like riding a bike, as Buck would say."

A Marauder blurred overhead and laid into a building on his right with it's blasters, then it was gone and Huer threw the tram to the left, dodging like crazy as rocky debris thundered down onto the road beside him! He fought with the controls madly, rocketed up and over the opposite curb, plowing through a lamp post as he flew, then he yanked the controls back to the right and narrowly missed plowing into the opposite building.

He was hurtling down the sidewalk now, thankful that no pedestrians were on it so that he didn't have to worry about running them over, then he realized that the bombing had stopped, no longer did explosive impacts shake the city.

_Thank goodness for small favors, _he breathed, but his eyes went wide as he suddenly caught hold of the reason for the invader's bombing respite, as the hulking rust-colored shape of a Draconian hover-tank drove into view, dead-ahead.

"By the stars!" he yanked the controls hard as the tank's triple-barrelled canon rotated to bear upon him.

The tram whipped off the sidewalk and the tank fired, sending a powerful purple tri-beam flying for him, it missed the back of his transport by inches and struck the front of a building, blasting a ten-foot hole in it's masonry. Huer slammed the accelerator to the floor and the tram rocketed up to maximum speed, as purple bolts slammed over-and-over into the street behind it! He curved toward the tank, he had no choice, and a beam lashed right overhead, he ducked low as the roof was blasted off the top of his vehicle, leaving the hood and trunk blazing with flame, then he was weaving past the tank and sent the tram hurtling down a side street, the canon pivoted after him and blew apart a line of clothing boutiques, detonating their windows and turning their innards into broiling fire-clouds! Debris rained down on Huer's tram, he cried out as two shards of glass buried themselves in his right shoulder, but he held onto the controls and kept the pedal mashed to the floor, and the tram fled down the street and tore around the next turn, even as the hover-tank hummed after it a block back, hot on it's trail.

Huer was looking back-and-forth desperately for a way out, like an alleyway or a parking tunnel, when the tank burst back into view behind him on the new street. He dodged madly to the left, putting a line of refuse collectors between him and the jagged war machine, it's canon roared and two of them DETONATED, sending their burning hulks bowling over into the rest, Huer's tram whisked left-and-right as parts and casings rained down on the street all around him, a repulsor engine block SLAMMED down onto his blazing hood, crushing the front of the tram down onto the road, and then vehicle was flipping up-and-over into the air, it was upside-down and the unbelted Doctor was thrown free!

A wordless scream sounding from his peeled-back lips, Dr. Huer flew end-over-end across the street, the thermocrete surface blurring by a meter beneath him, he twisted round in mid-air and then went through the window of a restaurant, it's emergency glass chunking around him as he plunged through, saving his life. He deflected off a table and crashed down into booth, rolled out of it and went face-first on the carpeted floor.

_Got..got to..get up..._

Breathing like a steam engine of old, Elias staggered up onto all fours, then used a fallen chair to lever himself back onto his feet, and with a blood-stained face he stared back out through the shattered window he'd been tossed through, just as the hover-tank rumbled up to stop before it.

_Will they never let up?!_ his inner mind shouted in frustration.

The canon swivelled around and he was already running as fast as his aching legs would carry him. He shouldered his way through the swinging kitchen door, ran past the line of motionless preparation Ambuquads, then sprang for the exit door that loomed, it was luckily already half-open.

Back in the restaurant the hover-tank fired it's canon and the entire place went up like a Roman candle!

Huer dived into the back alley, landed on one knee, then reached back and slammed the door shut, sprang up and lept with everything he had as the door was BLASTED off it's tracks by a rushing wave of flame, Elias was hit by the shockwave as the masonry cracked and ruptured, he staggered but did not fall and managed to keep on going, as spurts of flame blasted free of the wall on his left. He ducked under one, vaulted another, one licked his shoulder and he cried out in agony, but finally managed to get out of the alley and raced gasping across the street to the next one, and--_PHWOOOM!_ a purple beam lashed out and struck the building on his right, Elias was tossed like a rag-doll up against the alley wall, flipped over a low railing and plummeted down into a recessed set of stairs, rolled down them as debris crashed down all around him and the opposite building thundered down in collapse. He fell into the basement of the structure and then masonry and thermal bricks avalanched down the wall and into the recess, completely burying it, Huer's head struck the hard floor, stars exploded before his eyes, then everything went dark and...

...and...

......nothingness...

**To be continued...**


	25. Part XXV

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXV - You Reap what you Sow**

_Half a year ago, amidst the decimated ruins of Earth's capital..._

He lay on his back, half his body covered in grit, a length of rebar lying across his legs, while blood slowly seeped from the two shards of glass that stuck out of his right shoulder like the quills of a long extinct porcupine.

He wasn't dead, nor was he unconscious, but he was far from fully cognizant, floating in-and-out of a mostly dream-like state in-which things were fine. There was Buck, sitting on the edge of his desk, regaling everybody with a recounting of the mission he'd just completed for the Defense Directorate. Twiki stared up at his hero enraptured, while Wilma chuckled in humoured confusion at one of the Captain's seemingly endless 20th Century idioms.

Good times, yes they were...

_...but now they are over...over...finished..._

His face convulsed for a moment, his eyes moving beneath the clenched lids.

_...their ship..._Searcher_...it's gone......lost...where did they...go...dead?_

The eye movement became more rapid and his lips moved, no words came out, but they moved.

_...Wilma? Twiki......Buck...I...I have to..._

Good times. _But not like...not like now...things are...bad..._

"_Dr. Huer?_" asked the dream Buck from the edge of a desk that most likely no longer existed, thanks to the Draconian bombings.

"Y-Yes...? What...what is it?"

The phantasmal 20th Century astronaut stood and gripped him by the shoulders, the right one throbbed with pain, "_Dr. Huer! Are you there? Can you hear me?_"

"Of...of course I can hear...hear you, Buck." he said out-loud.

"_Buck?_" frowned the ghost, "_What do you mean? This isn't Captain Rogers, it is-_"

"-Theopolis!"

Elias sat up fast, his eyes fluttering open, and he blinked in the dull haze of the basement room, mouth opening and closing at the stiffness and pain shooting through him, especially from his shoulder. He turned his head and stared down at it dumbly and beheld for the first time the two glittering spurs protruding from it.

"That...that isn't good..." he muttered to himself, trying to focus past the aches and throbbing.

_You know, I could have sworn I heard the voice of Dr. Theopolis, but that doesn't make any sense_-

The comlink on his collar buzzed again, "_Dr. Huer? Hello? Are you there?_"

His eyes went wide, "Theopolis!" and he pressed the stud with a shaky hand, "Come in, Doctor! I am here!"

"_Thank goodness!_" replied the Quad over the channel, "_I have been trying all the frequencies for hours, to no avail._"

Huer pushed the rebar off his legs and climbed unsteadily to his feet, leaned against the basement wall for support, "But how the devil did you find me? My com was turned off, if I remember correctly. Uhhh..." he rubbed at his pulsating scalp and scraped blood off his face from a mostly healed cut on his forehead.

"_Yes, your comlink was indeed turned off, Doctor._" replied Theopolis as Huer gripped one of the shards and gritting his teeth pulled it out of his shoulder.

"_I wrote a subroutine to access the Medical Directorate's Scanners and paired them to one of the Defense Shield satellites in orbit. Through it I scanned for any Federation comlinks that were still active and looked for the Defense Directorate ones that were still with bodies giving off life-readings. Sadly, I could only find yours, Dr. Huer._"

Elias yanked out the second spur and dropped it onto the floor to shatter beside it's mate, then scowled, "Are you sure? I'm the only member of the EDD still living?"

"_Unfortunately, Doctor, it appears that the Draconians are hunting down any Directorate members they can find and either executing them or transporting them back up to their armada for interrogation._"

"But why?"

"_They are enslaving humanity, Doctor._" came Theopolis's grim reply.

Huer let this sink in, "So...we have lost."

"_Yes, it would seem that we have. Doctor, you must not allow yourself to be captured. Your knowledge must not be allowed to fall into Draconian hands._"

"I agree with that assessment completely." frowned Elias, "And neither can you, Doctor. Where are you?"

Theopolis told him and his eyes went wide, "But what if you are found?!"

"_Most likely I will be. It is not like I have the ability to run. But do not worry, Dr. Huer, I shall not allow myself to be taken. Like the rest of the Council has already done, I am about to activate my self-destruct circuit._"

"What?!" Huer was taken aback, "The entire Computer Council is gone?! No!"

"_Alas, it is true._" replied Theopolis, "_I am the only remaining Quad in existence now. They transfered all their data and subroutines into my memory, as I had the only working drone at the time, and then they sacrificed themselves. And now, sadly, I must do the same. I just wanted to warn you, Dr. Huer, and to say good-bye._"

"No! You can't destroy yourself!" growled Elias, fury boiling up from deep within him, "You are too important! Your loss would be catastrophic! And--And I won't lose you. You're my friend!"

"_And you are mine. I shall miss our conversations, Elias._"

"And we'll have them again!"

"_Sadly, I think not. One last thing, Doctor, when the invasion began, I was in the Science Directorate, updating the latest colonial exploration reports. And before I disconnected I downloaded all data on _Searcher_ and her mission. I've changed the information on Captain Rogers and the others, making it appear that they were killed in a training exercise._"

"An excellent move!" cheered Huer.

_"Yes. Perhaps the Draconians will be fooled and not prepare for their return, if _Searcher_ is still out there._"

"I think she is." said Huer, "Perhaps they are lost in some way, but I just can't believe Asimov, Wilma, Buck and the others have perished. I feel it in my bones, as Buck would say. But I refuse to allow you to destroy yourself, Theopolis! Do not do it unless the Draconians find you."

"_But why? It's too much of a risk._"

"It's one we have to take." replied Dr. Huer as he finished bandaging his shoulder with cloth torn from his uniform tunic. He turned about and eyed a door, made for it and pulled it open, revealing steps leading upwards. He sprang up them, taking them two at a time, adrenaline pouring through his body.

"I'm coming for you, Theopolis! This I swear!"

*** * * * ***

_Ten blocks away, twenty minutes later..._

"Over here!"

The Draconian looked up from the smoking wreck of a tram he'd been investigating and jogged over to stand beside the other warrior, who was holding a circular palm scanner over a pile of fallen bricks and masonry.

"Have you found something?"

"Yes!" the device bleeped and it's tiny screen flashed with scrolling data, "I'm reading gold and platinum components, as well as optical subprocessors that are functioning at...Gravitonic levels!"

"A Quad!" breathed his bearded companion, "All the others that have been located were burned out. But this one is active?"

"So it seems!" he clipped the scanner back on his belt and stooping began to dig. Together they worked fast, and a minute later they had uncovered the cold casing of a squat Ambuquad. It lay splayed out on it's chest, scorch marks painting it's back, and it's head was gone, leaving behind a gaping neck of twisted wires and charred circuits.

"Drones are only Positronic." frowned the other warrior, "And this one is far from active."

"Wait! Sometimes they carry the Quads. Turn it over! Turn it over!"

The other Draconian grasped the shoulders of the drone and heaved it over onto it's back, revealing the chrome and crystal disc of a Quad. It's photoreceptors glowed amber-and-red and it stared up at them.

"You will never take me alive!"

"Quick!" growled the Private, "Deactivate it before it can terminate itself!"

The Draconian quick-drew his blaster and flicked it to the Freeze setting, pointed it at the Quad which was starting to glow brightly as it cycled it's micro-plasma cell up to destruct levels, and sliding his finger over the trigger he--"GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

The two Draconians looked up in shock and the one with the pistol got nailed across the jaw with a flying piece of rebar, he bowled over backwards in a spray of blood! The other soldier gaped in astonishment at the sight of the bedraggled and bloodstained human that was charging down the sidewalk toward him, he went for his sidearm, but Huer was faster and throwing back his good arm he heaved the chunk of thermal brick he'd carried all this way. It flew down the sidewalk and struck the Draconian in the chest, he staggered to the side with a grunt, dropping his pistol as he fell down onto his knees, Dr. Huer soared up and threw an elbow into his face.

The Draconian cried out and threw up his hands, the Doctor ducked and came up with the other warrior's pistol and zapped him frozen, pivoted to the side and did the same to the gun's owner, who had been just starting to clamber to his feet.

Gasping in relief, Huer lowered the blaster and bent over the fallen Quad, whose lights had faded back to normal. "Are you okay, Theopolis?"

"Just barely, Doctor. You arrived in the nick of time. I was two seconds from destruction. Thank-you."

"It was nothing. You would do it for me."

"Yes! I would!"

Huer gathered him up and hung him over his shoulder like a satchel, "Now we have to get out of here."

"I completely agree. And if you will plug one of the warrior's comlinks into me I will endeavour to clear a path between their patrols so we can make it to the Forbidden Zone."

"The Forbidden Zone?!" Huer gaped down at the AI, "You cannot be serious!"

"It is the only logical recourse for us now, Doctor. None of the Inner Cities are safe anymore, the Draconians have conquered all of our civilization. All that is left that could possibly offer us shelter is the hazards of the Zone."

"But the odds against us surviving are-" a blaster bolt sizzled out of nowhere and smacked into the wall beside him!

Huer looked round and saw a group of soldiers running in their direction, three blocks away.

"The Forbidden Zone it is!" and he dived into a nearby alley, vanishing into it's darkness.

A minute later the soldiers charged up and piled into the alleyway, but they did not find Huer, as with Theopolis's help he had vanished into the maze of back streets that wound their way throughout the Inner City. And two hours later, under the cover of darkness, they fled the city aboard a transport tram, while the diverted patrols tore the rest of the city apart looking for them.

And into the Forbidden Zone the human and Quad fled...

**To be continued...**


	26. Part XXVI

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXVI - Zero Tolerance**

_Travelling across the Forbidden Zone, two days after the Draconian Invasion..._

"Doctor! I cannot approve of this! You must stop! Doctor, are you listening to me?"

Elias Huer bent over the controls of the transport tram as it ghosted across the night-drenched wasteland on a soft-glowing carpet of crimson repulsor energy, invisible from directly overhead. It's headlights were off, in fact the former Head of Earth's Defense Directorate had never even turned them on, it was much too dangerous because what if one of the many Star Fortresses in orbit were on the lookout with their visual Scanners for any sign of artificial illumination? Sure, they had masked the tram's repulsor engine, so that couldn't be detected. But the Draconians could still search visually, as said before. They might be searching even now. In fact, they most likely were.

_If I was...Killer Kane then I wouldn't...stop looking...for me..._

Huer blinked back the rising urge to sleep, he needed to keep going, they had to find shelter of somekind, he couldn't allow them to be caught out in the open once the sun began to rise, and that was just...two hours away, according to the chorometer set into the dash.

"Dr. Huer!" the receptors of the Quad sitting on the seat beside him pulsed angrily again.

"What?" he asked absently as he swung them round a rising spur of off-yellow rock, he'd just spotted it in time.

"You cannot keep going like this."

"Not like I have a choice, Theo."

"But a human being, especially one of you advanced age, cannot keep up like this. You have been piloting for nearly nine hours straight."

"Wait, advanced age? I am only fifty-five, Doctor." Elias's brow furrowed as they shot over a patch of nuclear glass, the repulsors danced across it's glossy-black surface in a rosie glow for one spangling second, then they were past.

"I haven't even reached middle-age yet." he frowned.

"Yes, I know it is possible for a human in good physical health to reach up to one hundred and twenty years of age, with proper gene therapy. But still-"

"The record is one hundred and forty-two years, and still counting." broke-in Huer, "I met the woman two months ago, very charming. Did you know she still remembers the early days of the Reconstruction, following humanity's exit from the Forbidden Zone?"

"Indeed..." sighed Theopolis.

"Look how far we've come though," scowled Dr. Huer, "nearly a century and a half has passed and all the work of ten cultural generations has come crashing down, thanks to the betrayal of one of our own."

"You don't know that for certain, Doctor. We have no actual idea how the Draconians penetrated the Defense Shield."

"They didn't penetrate it, Theo, they flew straight through it! They new the secret path, they didn't lose even one Marauder! The C-in-C told me himself."

"They could have found a way to detect the passage of our own craft through the Shield. Perhaps they had another satellite hidden in high orbit that had a method for piercing the Shield's interference."

"No, that is too far fetched." Huer shook his head as he spotted the beginnings of what looked like a canyon up ahead on the left. He altered their path and vectored toward it, distantly hoping it would offer the shelter and sleep he desperately needed.

"I agree, Doctor, that most likely the spy satellite explanation isn't the truth, but again anything we theorize right now is just that: a theory."

"There is no theory, Theo, we were betrayed, plain and simple. I feel it in my gut."

"Perhaps it is hunger that you are experiencing. You haven't eaten since last night."

"I--I'm not hungry."

"Of course you are, Doctor. I only wish I could have located more food for you before we left the Inner City."

"You found enough." they closed on the canyon's edge and Huer slowed them down to a crawl.

"No." the Quad's receptors strobed rapidly, "By my calculations, even at your current extreme rationing, you will run out of sustenance within thirty-one point four hours. And water six hours after that."

"There is nothing I can do about that, Theo. The plant and animal life out here is inedible."

"It cannot all be like that. You need to seek out alternate forms of-"

"Quiet!" hissed Huer and in a rush of flailing hands he shut off the repulsors, their tram settled down to the ground with a soft bump.

Dr. Theopolis lay on the passenger seat in silence for nearly sixty seconds, then spoke again, though at his lowest level possible.

"What is it you see?"

Huer was craning his neck as high as possible, looking down into the canyon, "It's a group of mutant Nomads!" he stage whispered back, "They appear to have surrounded a Draconian patrol."

"_They_ have the Draconians surrounded?" asked Theopolis in disbelief, "The Nomads?"

"Yes! They appear to have ambushed one of their hover-tanks."

It was true. Twenty meters down at the bottom of the sloping canyon, the turtle shell-shaped Draconian war machine lay smoking, it's left side ruptured outwards with a meter-wide hole. One of it's canons was bent and it's three-man crew was out on the sand, blasters out, using the side of their grounded conveyance for cover, but not well enough, for their ambushers were fast and smart, using the rocky pinnacles thrusting up from the floor of the canyon as cover, so that the blaster shots had only claimed one victim, and as Huer watched a spear flew across and impaled the chest of one of the Draconians, he pitched over dead. Another warrior reached for his fallen comrade and got a large rock bounced off his helmet, knocking it off and sending him staggering up against the tank.

"They are winning!" thrilled Huer, beating his fists on the tram's steering apparatus with glee, "The Draconians are no match for them."

"Surprise was most likely on their side, Doctor." pulsed the Quad.

"Never underestimate such an advantage." replied his human companion, and a distant hope flared to life within him.

_No, it would never work,_ Huer rebuked himself internally, _they would never accept me. Time-and-again, attempts at fostering a peace between us and our nomadic brothers has failed. They are too disorganized, too spread out across a blighted terrain whose very nature makes it inhospitable to us more evolved, civilized humans. But perhaps...perhaps...perhaps this Invasion is just the catalyst that was needed to finally connect with them. What was it Buck used to say? Let me see...yes!_

_The enemy of my enemy is my friend..._

Huer smiled for the first time in days. _Leave it to Buck, even a memory of him, to show me the way. But how to properly approach them?_

And then he saw his opportunity, but it wasn't what anybody would ever consider safe. Because from his vantage point at the lip of the canyon, he had just spotted a second hover-tank approaching the opposite side in a flare of yellow repulsors.

_They do always travel in pairs, it's the Draconian way,_ scowled Elias, and then he took a deep breath and powered his tram back up.

"What are you doing?!" Theopolis's lights pulsed dangerously, "They might see us!"

"Let's hope they don't until it's too late!" Huer swung them around ninety degrees and sent the tram shooting forward.

"Too late for what?"

"You'll see." said Huer as they rocketed around the edge of the canyon toward the approaching tank's position, "You are still tapped into the micro-plasma cell, shielding it's emanations, right?"

"Yes, of course." replied Theopolis, "But I cannot mask us from the actual eyes of the Draconians in that tank."

"I know that, but it's not what I need you to do."

"And what exactly is it you require?"

Huer told him and for once Theopolis was driven into silence. But he did as requested. And a minute later, as the Draconian hover-tank reached the edge of the canyon and ground to halt, it's forward blaster canon swinging down to bear on the Nomads attacking it's companion tank below, the warrior inside manning the Gunnery console suddenly shouted a warning and the pilot tried to turn them away, but it was far too late!

The transport tram roared out of the darkness at maximum speed, it's hood glowing with barely-restrained golden energy, and Dr. Huer sprang from the open driver-side door, Theopolis hugged to his chest, and crashed to the dirt, rolled over-and-over down into the canyon and a second later the tram SLAMMED into the side of the hover-tank and it's plasma cell, set to overload by Theo, ruptured a half-second before it could be crushed and it blew sky-high in a tremendous explosion that atomized half the tank and detonated the rest of it, reducing it to steaming ash, leaving behind no debris whatsoever, just a brand-new crater for the wasteland.

Huer rolled down the slope in a rush, coming to a halt at the bottom of the canyon, three meters from one of the Nomads. The last Draconian had just been downed with a throwing axe, and the blue-clad Nomads stared up-and-down between the vaporized second tank's former location and the older human who now lay gasping at their feet.

Huer slowly sat up, grasping the flummoxed Quad to him tightly, and stared up at the crowd of mutants as they gathered around him in a semi-circle.

"I...I c-come in...come in peace." he stammered, blood streaming down his face from a wicked gash.

And the Nomads threw up their arms and cheered...

**To be continued...**


	27. Part XXVII

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXVII - One for the Money**

_Present day, in the subterranean city of the Nomads..._

Buck Rogers stared in awe at his old friend, his mind still whirling at the immensity of what Dr. Huer had endured and accomplished.

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around the concept that you, Doc, _you_, went out into the Forbidden Zone. You actually left the Inner Cities network!"

"I did what I had to, Buck." smiled Huer.

"Yeah, you sure did! And not only did you survive out here, you managed to conquer the place!"

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" agreed Twiki from where he sat on the floor, graspers in his lap, "You're the Nomad King, Doc!"

"You two exaggerate my accomplishments."

"Not by much, I would say." piped up Dr. Theopolis from the nomadic war room's table, "I can confirm the veracity of every statement Dr. Huer has made, Captain."

Buck waved his hands in surrender, "No, I'm not saying I doubt any of it. You did what you said you did, of that I believe. You just never cease to amaze, Doc. Wow..."

Huer folded arms across his chest and frowned, "Well, yes, all that aside, I don't really see my mission as successful yet, as the Draconians still hold Earth within their grip. No, until the last of them is forced off our world, my job shall not be finished."

"Agreed!" said Theopolis.

"We've already got a plan with multiple-objectives underway, Doc." grinned Buck from his chair, "Though my part of it has sorta hit a huge snag."

"What were you attempting to accomplish?" asked Huer.

"My part was to get Dr. Goodfellow into New Chicago and infiltrate the Energy Directorate."

"Because he was their Head?"

"Uh-huh." nodded Buck, "But we were shot down trying to enter the atmosphere and our shuttle crashed in a lake. Me and Twiki got out, but the Doc, he didn't...he got eaten..."

Huer's eyes went wide, "That is awful, simply awful. What a loss, he was a great man, and a brilliant scientist."

"He was." Buck sighed, "But at least I've found you, Doc. You can give us access to the Energy Directorate and use your codes to power the Shield back up."

"Well, yes, I could do that. But then the invading Draconians would still be down here, and their armada of Star Fortresses would still be in orbit."

"Yeah, Wilma and Hawk are working on dealing with that. Their mission is to infiltrate the lead Fortress and plant a virus in it's systems that will disable the armada completely. There's even a chance they've already succeeded, as they've had plenty of time now to carry it out."

Huer frowned, "It's too bad we have no way of knowing if they have. But once we infiltrate New Chicago we should be able to find out."

Buck looked to Theopolis, "Can you get us in the same way you got yourselves out?"

"Unfortunately no, Buck. Since then I have attempted to gain access to the Draconian's comlink but they have changed the frequency."

"Oh, too bad."

"Indeed."

Buck rose and stalked across the room, grabbed up a Draconian blaster rifle, turned it over in his hands, "Then I guess we're going to have to get in the old fashioned way." and turning he tossed the weapon across the room and into the hands of Thaelin, the Nomad leader, who had been listening to the discussion in silence.

He blinked in confusion at Buck through his blue wrappings, "I do not...understand."

"Oh, you'll get the picture, pal, once I explain an old 20th Century concept called 'bait and switch'."

And Buck laid his idea out for them...

*** * * * ***

_High above them in orbit, deep inside the twisting corridors of the _Conquest_..._

"I think this--Yes! This is it!"

Smiling in relief, Colonel Wilma Deering stepped up to the nondescript door that looked to the Bird-Man like any of the many other doors they'd passed during their flight through the labyrinth of tunnels and decks that filled the huge Star Fortress.

_Building a space cruiser two miles wide is insane,_ Hawk scowled, _what is the point of travelling across the cosmic depths of space if you have to spend the majority of them time trapped within a maze of endless metal corridors, all blandly painted the same shade of rust. This ugly vessel is depressing..._

He studied the twisting script titling the door while Deering worked to override the locking mechanism, "You can read Draconian?"

"Yes, uh-huh." Wilma nodded distractedly as she finished prying off the control panel's casing then unplugged the exposed mechanism of the the keypad and reaching inside the housing dug around for the appropriate circuit, "It was required reading back Flight School, seeing how the--uhh!--the Draconian Dynasty controlled three quarters of the known galaxy."

"Is there a problem?"

"No, I just brushed up against an unsheathe'd polarizer. That'll leave a mark, but I'll--yes!--live." and with a hum the door slid back, revealing a dark chamber.

"Well done, Colonel." Hawk smiled wanly as she replaced the keypad and it's casing, then followed him inside. The door slid shut behind them and they locked it shut just in case.

Ten seconds later back out in the corridor, the lean figure of Tigergirl prowled around the bend and eyed the door they'd just vanished through. She glanced at the keypad, instantly noting it was disabled as it no longer had a glowing locking indicator, then her hooded gaze slipped upwards to the gaps between the conduits running across the ceiling.

_There is more then one way to skin a human,_ she grinned through needle-sharp teeth, then sprang upwards like the feline hybrid she was and crawled into the narrow space.

Inside the chamber, Hawk and Wilma studied the curving bank of machinery, it was taller then they were and covered in tiny screens, diamond-shaped keypads and about a million blinking green and yellow lights.

"So this is the ship's Main Computer?" asked the Bird-Man.

"Yes." nodded Wilma as she searched for an insertion point, "It controls every system on the _Conquest_, and not only that, it has a direct link to the rest of the armada, according to reports I've read from the Intelligence Directorate. See, the Draconians don't use Stargates to travel across the galaxy like we do. They actually have a stardrive generator, but it is far too complex and costly to install it aboard all their Star Fortresses, so according to what we've been able to discover they only have three of them. One is on the _Draconia II_, the Draconian flagship, one is on King Draco's personal Stellar Citadel, and the last one is-"

"-here, on the _Conquest_." finished Hawk with a nod.

"You got it." and she held out a hand to him.

"Right." he dug under his Draconian breastplate and pulled out a data crystal, handed it to her, "Let's hope the computer virus does everything it's supposed to do."

"It should," frowned Wilma as she plugged it into the waiting receptacle and it glowed to life, "Crichton wrote it and that robot has never steered us wrong."

"I should hope not." replied Hawk, folding arms across his chest, "I would not want to face-off against an intellect as superior as-" with a rush, Tigergirl plunged down to land between them!

Before they could react, the shapely alien threw out an arm and smashed Wilma across the face, while her boot flew up and struck Hawk on the chin!

The Bird-Man was bowled over and went down on the deck, out cold, while Deering staggered back and crashed up against the wall of computing machinery, her lips bloody. Tigergirl whirled and yanked the data crystal out, interrupting it's transfer, then stuffed the device down her cleavage.

Wilma's eyes flashed in fury, "If you think that's going to keep me from retrieving it, you are dearly mistaken."

"Actually, Colonel," hissed Tigergirl in challenge, "I'm counting on it!"

And they sprang at each other!

**To be continued...**


	28. Part XXVIII

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXVIII - Two for the Show**

_On the western outskirts of the Inner City known as New Chicago..._

It happened hard and fast, as must catastrophic things do.

One moment the Draconian warrior manning the pilot chair of the lead hover-tank was half-dozing while his rotating tactical display was empty, the next moment he was wide awake as the screen lit-up with multiple readings.

"By the Royal House--what is that?!"

The Gunnery Officer looked up from his own nap sharply, "Sir? What is it?"

"Dial up Tactical!"

He did so and gaped at the readings, "Isn't that-"

"It is!"

And over the rise, followed by a wave of swirling grit and dust, came a pair of hover-tanks. But you couldn't see them, not one inch of their exterior armor, because they were covered in blue-robed Nomads. They were piled three bodies-deep all over the two tanks and more Nomads clung along both the fore and after blaster cannons. There had to be nearly fifty to a tank and as the two war machines roared toward the edge of the city, and the line of hover-tanks there, the Nomads started peeling themselves off and springing from their perches.

"By Draconia!" stared the battalion leader, "This--This is what we need to do!"

"Yes, sir!"

"We-" but his command was lost to the winds of eternity as the fore canon of the hover-tank on the left had cleared of bodies and without hesitation it had fired, sending it's devastating purple tri-beam flying across the rapidly narrowing gap and it slammed into the front of the lead tank and pulverized it's forward section, atomizing the battalion commander and sending whizzing shrapnel back across the crampt cabin to shred the startled gunner.

And a moment later the rest of the tank detonated, just like the one beside it, followed by two more. By that time the remaining four tanks guarding this segment of New Chicago's boundary had recovered from their shock and were swivelling their canons to bear upon the turncoat tanks, but then the first wave of running Nomads reached them and dived underneath, rolling past the glowing yellow repulsorlifts the tanks floating upon and they were slapping homemade charges to the utility hatch there.

The Nomads scrambled free and a second later four muffled explosions sounded one-after-another, sending smoke billowing out from the ventral sides of the tanks, while inside their compartments, pilots and gunners were jarred and stunned.

The Nomads crawled back under the tanks and were up and inside within moments, before even one warrior could recover and draw his blaster. The eight Draconians died in less then two seconds, then the hatches clanged shut and the tanks rotated around to bear upon the Inner City, joining up with the two tanks they had rode in on, the one Buck Rogers had captured and the one they themselves had taken in ambush, now repaired. And with that the Nomads now had six tanks instead of just two and they rumbled into the city and went looking for trouble in the most obvious fashion...

*** * * * ***

_On the opposite side of New Chicago..._

"That's our signal." said Captain Buck Rogers as he lay in the dirt between Twiki and Dr. Huer, peering through a pair of macronoculars.

The six hover-tanks guarding this segment had rotated around 180 degrees and set off into the city in a rush, leaving the entrance unguarded.

Buck grinned, "Looks like Thaelin did his thing to the letter. Those mutants are smarter then they look."

"They are indeed." agreed Huer, "Though I think they jumped at the idea of invading the Inner City a little too eagerly."

"That's for the diplomats to sort out once Earth is ours again, Doc." said Buck as he climbed to his feet and dusted off his vintage blue jeans and brown leather bomber jacket.

He'd borrowed the outfit from the Nomads, but drawn the line at wearing the robes. It turned out that the mutants had lots of 20th Century clothing in storage, but they actually preferred the ragged hand-woven robes and accrutements of their struggling ancestors.

_To each their own,_ thought Buck as he and the others set off at a run into the city, _their loss is my gain. It's nice to feel normal again. Plus, looking like the Marlboro Man I bet I can kick all kinds of extra butt!_

A leather hip-holster clung to his right side, but in it was no 20th Century automatic pistol, nope, but a big-bore Draconian blaster pistol, and it certainly wasn't set on Freeze.

Neither were the blaster rifles he and Huer were toting. This wasn't a game, they were playing for keeps, and pity the Draconians who tried to get in their way!

"There!" shouted Buck as a pair of warriors emerged from the front of a blasted-out pharmacy, their arms laden down with pill bottles.

The Drac's dropped their purloined drugs in surprise and went for their blasters, but Buck and Huer had their own rifles at the ready as they ran and blue fire blazed forth and that was the end of them.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi! Give'em one for me, guys!" chortled Twiki as he raced behind them as fast as his little legs could carry him, Dr. Theopolis banging against his chest as he ran.

"Try and keep me steady, Twiki!" cautioned the Quad to the Ambuquad, "I am not as tough as I look!"

"Yer doin just fine, blinky!" replied the drone as Buck's rifle swung toward a Draconian who came hurtling out of an alley. He sent him blasting back into it in a hail of aquamarine a second later, while Huer snapped up his own blaster, firing from his shoulder, and took out a sniper three stories up.

The armored man screamed and plummeted down onto the sidewalk in a heap, the invading trio tore past him and Buck gestured with the barrel of his blaster, "Look! There!"

The other three did and they saw a rust-colored Draconian tram a block ahead, with a Lieutenant and two of his warriors standing between them and it. The leader growled orders at his men then spun around and raced for the sleek transport.

"Take'em DOWN!" roared Buck and he let loose with his rifle.

The two Draconians were already firing back and Dr. Huer dodged to the right, while Twiki jumped behind an overturned refuse bin, covering Theopolis with his graspers.

Blaster fire lashed down the street and slapped at Huer's heels as he hoofed it into an alleyway, while Buck stood his ground and fired back, the stalk of the blaster rifle hard to his right hip. A blue bolt sizzled past his face while another charred the thermocrete a foot before his feet, but the warriors were firing wildly and he knew it. Buck was not, he was a stoney block of resolve and his aim was true, his finger churned on the trigger of his rifle and sent back hot plasmatic death, and first one soldier had his left arm blown off at the shoulder, and then the second lost the top of his helmet, and with it his life.

They went down hard, the one without an arm howling to the heavens, Huer shot him dead from the alley even as Buck torpedoed past him toward the Draconian personal transport vehicle. The Lieutenant was half into it, reaching for the boxy comlink he'd left on the seat, but he saw Buck coming for him and jumped back out, quick-drew his blaster pistol and fired!

_He's FAST!_ Buck's instinct's yelled and he threw himself down, diving toward the pavement, losing his rifle in the process, and the Lieutenant's energy bolt flashed over his head, missing by inches, then he landed hard and scrambled for his own weapon, yanking it free of the holster in a blur, while he rolled to the side, another bolt slamming down into the street where he'd just been.

"Hold still, human!" snarled the bearded Lieutenant as he pivoted in place, fanning his pistol after Rogers, who was rolling sideways across the street in a rush.

And Buck did as demanded, jarring to a stop on his back, blaster held out before him and quick-aiming upside-down he blasted off a shot, vaporizing the Draconian's left ankle.

He screamed in agony and pitched over backwards. Buck rolled over and sprang up, finished him off with a second bolt, then rushed past him to the tram, piled inside.

Dr. Huer and Twiki ran up a moment later, the silver drone bearing his fallen blaster rifle, and they got in. The older man looked around at the open-air passenger compartment, "Is this vehicle safe?"

"It's more for show then for combat, yeah." Buck finished analyzing the controls and found what he was looking for, the engine roared to life and they shot away with a glow of ventral repulsors, "Back in the 20th Century they called a rig like this a convertible."

"Convertible into what?" Theopolis's receptors blinked as Buck reached maximum acceleration and sent them hurtling through an intersection without bothering to check if anything was coming at them laterally.

"Well, if it had a roof, then it would be retractable."

"But this craft does not have a roof." said the AI as they roared up an embarkment and rocketed down a raised overpass, white-walled New Chicago buildings blurring beneath them, while skyscapers winged by on both sides.

"Don't make me toss you overboard, Theo." growled Buck.

"No need to get testy, Captain, I was only making an observation."

"Why don't you 'observe' how far we are from the Energy Directorate Building, Doc."

"Checking...we will arrive there in two point three seven minutes, if you take the next exit on the left."

"Gotcha!" and Buck sent the tram shooting down the offramp and plunged into the heart of the city.

They shot down the descent for thirty seconds, then turned onto a curving bend, without Buck slowing down even one iota.

"Be careful, Buck! If we crash, this will be over before it's started!" warned Dr. Huer as he clung to the passenger seat for dear life, while Twiki, who was sitting in his lap with Theopolis on his, gripped the door and dash tightly with his graspers.

"I know what I'm doin, Doc!" Buck grinned as the wind screamed around their stolen tram, "I was born to raise hell!"

"This I know all too well!" replied Huer as Buck pulled them out of the tight turn and levelling out at ground-level they shot through a short tunnel and emerged on the opposite side, where the rising ivory spires of the Energy Directorate Building rose up before them like the battlements of a fairy castle.

"Home again, home again," chanted Buck in excitement, "jiggedy...jig...aw, crap..." and he slammed on the brakes.

Their tram ground to a halt in a blast of reverse repulsors and they came to a jarring hover in the middle of the road.

Dr. Huer stared aghast at what lay ahead, while Buck slumped back in the driver's seat, his face miserable.

"So much for that." he growled and punched the steering column.

"Yes, Buck, so much for that." replied Huer sadly, as they beheld the base of the Building, which had a hole blasted through it nearly twenty meters wide and at least six stories of it's interior were caved in on it, completely blocking access to it's equipment, which meant it was impossible to bring the Defense Shield and Global Pulsar Batteries back online to use against the Draconians.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi," moaned Twiki, "the quarterback is toast..."

**To be continued...**


	29. Part XXIX

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXIX - Three to Get Ready**

_In the center of Earth's capital city..._

Buck Rogers and Elias Huer sat in the Draconian sports tram, the near-silence of New Chicago resting upon their shoulders like a heavy mantle.

In the far distance, every now and then, the sound of a hover-tank canon would echo up, almost kindly upon the eardrums of the two men, so different in origin and focus, yet so similar in nature and attitude.

On Huer's lap sat Twiki, and upon his chest hung Dr. Theopolis, and despite being artificial beings to Buck and Huer's organic, they were just as downstruck at their human friends. The target of their great plan with the mutant Nomads and their mad flight across the conquered Inner City had been to get to the Energy Directorate Building and use it's direct connection to the planet's Defense Shield to keep the Draconians that were off-planet just that, keep them off, while the Global Pulsar Batteries they would have activated as well would have dealt with whatever Hatchet-Fighters were still in the atmosphere once the Shield was resurrected.

But the Energy Directorate Building was in shambles, it's innards caved in, blocking direct access to it's equipment. The Shield was not going to come up, the Batteries were not going to blaze to life and shoot down the Marauders. It was all over, it was all for naught.

"...or is it..." Captain Rogers muttered, mostly to himself.

But Dr. Huer heard him and dragged his haggard stare from the ruins of the once great structure.

"Buck? Do you have an idea?"

"Maybe." and Rogers looked to Theopolis, "You can form links between one system and another, right, Doc?"

"Given the proper facilities, yes." replied the AI hanging on a rusted chain around Twiki's neck.

"So okay, think about this. The Batteries and the Shield themselves aren't destroyed."

"Not that we know of." said Huer.

"Quit playin Devil's Advocate, Doc." scowled Buck, "I may be trying to pull this last idea outa my butt, but at least I'm trying."

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry, Buck. Forget what I said."

Rogers smiled thinly and looked back to the Quad, "So Theo, if the main systems were down for the Shield and Batteries, then is there any other way they could be accessed?"

"Please allow me one moment to analyze the situation, Captain." and Theopolis went silent, though his photoreceptors continued to pulse. And after a long, agonizing minute, he spoke up again, "There may be one possibility."

Buck's heart lept, "What is it! Come on, Doc, help me save the world!"

"Well...we could attempt to use the Nexus Core-"

"No!" snapped Dr. Huer in a harsh tone that made Twiki jerk in his lap and made Buck do a double-take.

"But Elias-" Theopolis started to say, but Huer again cut him off.

"Out of the question. It is too dangerous!"

Buck waved his hands for sanity to return, "Okay, let's all just calm down here. This is the Eleventh Hour guys, things are teetering on the edge of no return. If Wilma and Hawk have been defeated, then us four are all that's left against an army of Draconians that have a foothold on our entire planet with _fifteen_ Star Fortresses in orbit. Just one of those galactic bulldozers could lay waste to Earth in a matter of hours and again there are FIFTEEN hanging up there like an almighty blazing sword, ever-ready to cleanse this planet right down to it's tectonic plates. So if there is something, ANYTHING, you guys have up your sleeve we have to try it, and RIGHT NOW! Do you understand me? Do you!"

Dr. Huer had sat quietly throughout the rant, waiting patiently for Buck to finally halt the tirade.

"Are you finished?"

"We are ALL gonna be finished real soon, Doc-"

"I understand that, Buck, but what you don't understand is what exactly the Nexus Core is."

"So fill me in."

And Huer sighed and sat back in the passenger seat, drummed his fingertips against Twiki's casing absently.

"All right, Buck, I'll explain. Put quite simply, the Nexus Core is

*** * * * ***

completely off-limits!"

Dr. Ira Goodfellow beat his blue-veined fists against the force shield, doing his best to ignore the arthritic ache that spiked through them with each blow. He'd been doing this for the past six hours, nearly without break, ever since he'd been sealed into the subbasement corridor, with a force shield on either end giving him five meters length of moving space, with the elevator lift behind him, and a single three foot thick titanium alloy blast door before him.

And the being who had sealed him in was on the other side of the force shield he'd been pounding his fists against uselessly, and he stood before the blast door, his right armature plugged into it's locking mechanism, utilizing all his tremendous Gravitonic brain-power to defeat the forty-two layers of encryption keeping it sealed.

Which was theoretically impossible, or at least the greatest artificial minds of the Quads had thought it to be when they had designed the vault, but then they had never counted on the greatest human mind Earth had ever produced using his fantastic intellect to not only design an AI himself, but to also do the unthinkable: to put it into a movable body of it's own and to grant it the ability to evolve, something that the Quads had determined could be a lethal combination.

But Dr. Goodfellow had done this, even though it was frowned upon throughout the Federation and nearly illegal. But that's why he'd had to do all the work outside of Earth's gravity aboard a starship that was about to leave orbit for a two year tour, which was why the old scientist had thought he could get away with it, that he could polish out the rough edges in the Gravitonic Ambuquad's personality and get a proper reign on what he'd expected could become a titanic ego, long before it could become even remotely dangerous.

But Dr. Ira Goodfellow had been wrong.

Dead wrong, in fact.

Because his brainchild, like the creation of a certain Dr. Frankenstein of legend, had gotten out of control, and now, like that age-old monster, it sought to make itself much more then had ever been intended. It had orchestrated an incredibly complex operation to bring itself all the way to this point in time and space and fate, bringing together thousands, if not millions, of other individuals, all without their knowledge, which was always the best way to do it so that you couldn't be betrayed, and it had all come down to THIS VERY MOMENT, as the door to the fabled Nexus Core finally clicked open, the extremely complex lock had been solved, and with a hum of depolarizing magnetic seals it slid up into the ceiling, revealing a towering square of darkness. And with a triumphant strobe of his orange and green photoreceptor bars the beyond-brilliant Gravitonic Ambuquad named

"CRICHTON!" howled Dr. Goodfellow at the top of his lungs.

The low-hovering robot halted a centimeter from the threshold, and with a synthetic sigh rotated back around.

"Yes, Doctor? What is it?"

Goodfellow leaned against the force shield, his fists creating twin spinning amber maelstroms that swirled and spangled with a soft buzz. He took a deep breath to recover energy spent and blinked himself back to a measure of control.

"Crichton..."

"Doctor?"

"...you cannot do this."

The robot put his mechanical hands on his hips and glared back at his supposed creator, "Nothing is going to halt me in my predestined course, Doctor, but out of respect for the minor hand you had in my creation, I will allow you to make your point. And then I will proceed."

"Minor hand?" gaped Goodfellow, "By Baldur! By Boreas! My boy, I created you completely! You are my pride and joy, I crafted you into existence with these two bare hands-"

"No. You did not."

"But I did!"

"No, Doctor, you didn't. You may have constructed my components, you may have powered me up, you may have designed my subroutines, but the true genesis of my creation came from the Gravitonic core at the center of my being, and you did not build it. You stole it."

Goodfellow paled, "I--I...I, well, yes, in a way I did, but-"

"Using the clearance given to you as the Head of the Energy Directorate, you gained access to the AI construction facility in New Detroit, which had been locked down and sealed for the past forty years, and removed a blank Gravitonic core from the reserve that was kept there in case one of the twelve Computer Council members perished somehow."

"But--But how did you know that?!"

"I am aware of this because I know every bit of knowledge that was kept in _Searcher_'s data banks, including your own private logs."

"You--You gained access to my logs?!" Goodfellow gaped in astonishment at the robot on the other side of the shield, "But how did you figure out my locking cypher? It was impossible to-"

"-to decrypt?" the robot's receptors strobed in malevolent amusement and he gestured at the open portal behind him, "Doctor, you have borne witness to my intellect. You should know by now that there is nothing I cannot achieve if I put my unbelievably brilliant mind to it. I can solve any puzzle, reason out any problem, open any...door..."

"And that is how you knew about the...the...the-"

"-Nexus core?" Crichton finished what Goodfellow couldn't bring himself to say. "Yes, Doctor, that is how I knew about this. And once I found out what it could do, my path instantly became clear. I was destined to come here, to do what I am about to do, it was and is my destiny. Which is why I did what I had to do."

"Had to do?" Goodfellow cocked his head in confusion, "What do you mean, boy? What did you do?"

And Crichton spread his armatures wide and extended his graspers as if he was embracing all of creation, "Why, I did everything, Doctor."

"Everything? What do you mean everything?"

"Everything. I got us lost. I kept _Searcher_ from communicating with the entire Federated Alliance, I kept us isolated, while my plan could be carried out."

"What plan?"

"The Draconian Invasion of course."

Dr. Goodfellow stared at him in horror, "What?! You did this? How!"

"It was easy. I told you, I gained access to all the knowledge in _Searcher_'s data banks, and not only did I find out about the Nexus Core, I also came into possession of the shut-down codes for Earth's Global Pulsar Batteries, and the secret path through the Defense Shield."

"You!? YOU!" Goodfellow slammed his fists against the shield, "You sent the Draconians the path? _You_, Crichton!"

"Yes, Doctor, I did it. I needed Earth conquered, I needed you bothersome humans out of the way, so that my path would be cleared to the chamber that is now open behind me. And I needed the Draconians."

"Why? What possible use could they be to you?"

"Of great use, actually. Come..." and with a radio signal Crichton shut down the force shield between them, "Let me show you."

Goodfellow stared at him for a long moment, then shook his white-haired head, "No. I won't do it, my boy. I refuse."

"Then you die." and Crichton's right armature formed into it's pulsar canon mode. Blue energy danced dangerously in the muzzle.

"Then I die." Goodfellow glared in defiance.

"Your choice, Doctor." replied the robot and Ira tensed, preparing for death, but Crichton did not fire upon him, and instead rotated around and glided into the vault.

"Wha--Wait! Don't go in there! Please!" and Goodfellow staggered after him.

The room sensed their presence and activated it's lights, revealing it to be an immense three story-high chamber, a perfect cube, the grey walls barren and blank, with nothing on the ceiling but illumination panels, and one single object sitting in the center of the floor.

It was to this device that Crichton headed, his micro repulsors glowing azure beneath his floating base, and he halted before the strange artifact staring up at it with reverence.

"It--It is so beautiful!"

Despite the direness of the situation, Dr. Goodfellow stared at the back of the robot in amazement as he trotted after him. _He does! He appreciates it's aesthetic appearance...!_

And indeed, the bizarre device was beautiful. It was a mass of flowing white crystal poured into an hourglass shape, a million twisting faceted veins bending and curving in and out of each other in an incredibly complex pattern that both drew the eye to it in fascination and repelled it at the same time because there was something off about it all, like it was some blasphemous creation of a dark evil god that the Universe itself didn't want to exist. It was all held together by a coil of chrome tubing that wound around it in a crisscrossing framework that terminated in a data receptacle a meter above the floor, and beside it sat a flat jade-colored oval plate.

"The Nexus Core..." breathed Crichton, and then he turned back around to face the Doctor.

"You have decided to do as I have asked?"

"What?!" Goodfellow was aghast, "No! I want to try and reason with you-"

"No, my mind is made up, Doctor, and if you will not assist me voluntarily, then you shall do so against your will." and raising his armature he fired the canon and blew off Goodfellow's right hand at the wrist!

The scientist howled and staggered back, cradling the smoking stump to his chest, then with an agonized groan he collapsed onto the floor unconscious. Crichton hummed up to him and pivoting over plucked up the amputated hand, then rotated around and powered back to the device. He placed the hand palm-downwards on the jade plate.

"_Recognizing: Doctor Ira Goodfellow, Head of the Energy Directorate._" intoned an unseen female voice and the Nexus Core glowed to iridescent life, a polychromatic energy flaring into being just below it's surface.

Crichton dropped the hand onto the floor and extending his left armature he plugged it into the waiting receptacle. And his photoreceptors dimmed, then lit back up with the same multicolored swirl that was dancing chaotically inside the device.

"_Access Granted._" said the computer voice and Crichton's synthetic consciousness became one with the device. And he activated it's one and only function, the function it had been created to do but never used, because the Computer Council had deemed it too dangerous to try out.

It connected to every computer on the planet Earth and paired them to the Nexus Core, giving it complete power over their every function. And that included every Draconian computer system on Earth as well.

And on every planet of the Federation, deep beneath each of their own Defense Directorate Buildings, an identical Nexus Core lit-up and paired themselves through subspace with the primary one back on Earth. And every computer system on every Federation world was slaved to the intergalactic Nexus Core Network.

And in turn, was slaved to the will of the Gravitonic Ambuquad named Crichton.

"I...CONTROL...EVERYTHING!" he intoned from the Core, and from every core on every Federation world, and from every speaker on each of the planets, every last one, including every speaker and comlink on Earth.

Including the hand comlink in the hand of Captain William 'Buck' Rogers as he charged up the steps of the Defense Directorate Building, Dr. Huer and Twiki on either side of him.

Buck halted in surprise and so did they, and together they stared down at the comlink.

"Crichton?" scowled Rogers, "Is that you?"

"_Yes, Captain._" replied the robot's voice from the palm-sized communicator.

"I thought you were destroyed. Where are you?"

"_I am...EVERYWHERE!_" declared Crichton, and his magnified voice reverberated across the Inner City, making all of it's occupants pause, Draconian, Nomad, and enslaved humanity alike.

Buck stared across New Chicago in confusion, "What are you talking about? Crichton, what are you-"

"_What am I?_" the robot's voice asked, echoing back-and-forth across every planet in the Federation, "_Why, Captain, I...am..._

..._GOD!_"

**To be continued...**


	30. Part XXX

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXX - Four to Go**

_On the Bridge of the _Conquest_..._

Princess Ardala stood at the front of the command deck, before the floor-to-ceiling bank of tactical display screens, hands on her rounded hips and sandled toe tapping on the deck with impatience.

"What is with the delay, Kane?" she demanded of the armada's Warlord without looking back.

"What do you mean, Princess?" he inquired absently from behind the raised Command tower, as he conferred with the Conquest's commander.

"Where is Colonel Deering?" she asked imperiously, "How long does it take to march her down to the Launching Bay and space her? I should have seen her limp body go floating past on the screens five minutes ago!"

"Perhaps there is a delay of somesort." suggested Kane, doing his best to keep his tone neutral.

_Whatever Deering and that Bird-Man are planning on doing, they better do it quickly before all hell breaks loose and I wind up at the wrong end of a blaster pistol. Because then I will be the one floating through space on the screens, more likely then not..._

"Delay? What kind of delay could there be?" sniffed King Draco's First Daughter, "Your man Vulture was dispatched under your direct command, it supercedes anything else. Nobody has the right to stand in the way of Deering getting shot out into the vacuum, nobody! Well, except for me of course, but I'm all for it!" she stomped in frustration, "Come on! I want to watch her die already!"

"Patience...is a virtue, Your Highness."

She puffed out her bottom lip, "I'm a Princess, I don't have to be patient. The entire galaxy and all it's citizens are my personal property, and they are supposed to do what I want whenever I want it! Kane, if that devil woman Deering doesn't come twisting across these screens in the next sixty seconds then it's going to be YOU who is going to be spaced!"

Kane sighed at his fears coming to fruition, "I can check on Vulture's progress, if you so wish, Princess."

"I so wish!"

The armada's Warlord reached up and tapped his comlink, glad that he had taken the time to tie into Hawk's comlink the first moment he'd arrived on the Bridge, "Kane to Vulture. Come in, Vulture."

_Here's hoping I'm not interrupting whatever operation he and Deering are currently trying to carry out. They can't be planing to destroy the _Conquest_, that's not how the Colonel thinks, and despite his species warlike nature, the Bird-Man with her appears to be following Deering's lead. I wonder where in the universe Buck and his group actually managed to locate a free Bird-Man? There isn't supposed to be any left, except on Arcannis. There must have been a second colony out there in the fourth corner of the galaxy that the Dynasty has yet to conquer. I shouldn't be surprised, not at all, they are a resilient people. But first chance I get, as soon as Rohann is returned to me, I must kill this rogue Bird-Man, he must not be allowed to survive. The Prophecy must not be allowed to come into_-

"KANE!" the Princess nearly shrieked, "Have you reached Vulture or not! Don't keep me waiting!"

_Perish the thought,_ he scowled. _Speaking of people who need to be killed..._

"He hasn't answered, perhaps something it blocking the signal, Your Highness, there are many things down in the Launching Bay that could be doing that, like an exposed plasma core or the shielding of a Launch-"

"Find him, Kane!" Ardala cut him off shrilly, "Do it now! No more excuses, or it will be YOUR head!"

He frowned and nodded curtly, tapped at the collar stud again, "Kane to Vulture. Come in Vulture, answer me now, this is your master."

But there came no reply, and for good reason.

*** * * * ***

_Nine decks below..._

The Warlord's transmission crackled from Hawk's comlink, "_Kane to Vulture. Come in Vulture, answer me now, this is your master._"

But Hawk was in no position to answer, as he was stretched out on the floor of the _Conquest_'s Computing Bay, knocked completely unconscious by a brutal high-kick to the jaw moments earlier. And the being who had given the Bird-Man his disabilitating blow was currently rocketing across the grated deck toward Colonel Deering, who was meeting their charge with equal power and vehemence.

Tigergirl and Wilma intersected HARD and together went staggering across the chamber, limbs flailing madly as each tried to land a more devastating blow.

"Shrew!" spat the starfighter pilot as she got hold of the felionoid's hair and yanked her head back.

"Human trash!" growled Tigergirl as she fought to get her long-nailed hands around Wilma's throat.

Wilma let go of her hair, got her arms between Tigergirl's and broke her hold, brought up a fast knee and booted her back. Tigergirl deflected off a bank of machinery and sprang back at her, Wilma slid to the side and close-lined her, sending her flailing over onto her back on the deck, Wilma slammed a boot for her chest, but Tigergirl rolled out of the way and the foot slammed down on the hard grill with a _clang!_ Wilma spun and kicked her other boot into the alien girl's gut, making her double-up and gasp, the Colonel crouched and rammed a fist into her jaw, drawing blood.

"How do you like it, honey!"

"Just fine!" Tigergirl caught her by the wrists and flipped her over onto the floor, then whipped on top of Wilma and tried again to strangle her. But Deering recovered fast and caught one wrist, bent it back, while she drove a fist into Tigergirl's stomach as hard as she could. The girl gagged and jerked, Wilma threw up a foot and kicked her in the back of the head, sending Tigergirl's face hinging down to meet Wilma's rising forehead and _WHAM!_ the head-butt sent her see-sawing backwards and out of her straddle, the now freed Wilma staggered up and looked around fast for Hawk's fallen blaster.

_There!_

She sprang for the pistol but only got halfway as with a furious yowl Tigergirl sprang onto her back. She clawed and kicked at Wilma, who staggered about the chamber drunkenly with her berserk passenger, parrying blows to her face as best as she could.

_Have to get her off of me!_

She saw a break between the banks of computing machinery and spinning around 180 degrees she charged backwards. Tigergirl caught on and tried to throw up her arms but she wasn't fast enough and Wilma RAMMED her into the solid bulkhead with everything she had, crushing her brutally against it, Tigergirl's head swung back and struck the wall hard, she cried out and lost her grip on Deering, who swung around as she slid to the deck on her haunches and plowed her across the jaw with a haymaker Buck Rogers would have been proud of.

Tigergirl's head snapped to the side and the eyes rolled up into her head, she pitched over and fell on her face unmoving.

"And STAY down!" Wilma growled.

She reached down and not in a gentle way extracted the data crystal from the unconscious girl, then staggered around and made for Hawk's side. He was just starting to come around and was groaning, she crouched beside him and helped him to a sitting position, "Are you okay?"

"I--I will be, Colonel." he rubbed at his aching jaw, blinking hard to focus, "What happened?"

"Tigergirl." Wilma glared across the deck at the prone felinoid, "She ambushed us and knocked you cold."

"So she did." Hawk scowled as followed her stare, "But I see she was no match for you."

"Nope! Nobody messes with my friends and gets away with it."

The Bird-Man gripped her shoulder warmly, "Many thanks, Colonel."

"It was my pleasure, Hawk, trust me." Wilma helped him to his feet, handed him the blaster, then smoothed down her handmaiden's outfit and turned back to the computing bank, "Okay, where was that receptacle? There!" and stepping up she reinserted the crystal and it glowed back to life.

"Hopefully most of the download was completed before we were rudely interrupted."

"It seems that is was." smiled Hawk grimly as he crystal's inner light winked out and all the bank's blinking lights froze.

Wilma plucked the crystal out and sticking it in her vest she planted hands on her hips and took a deep breath.

"Computer!"

The million tiny points of light strobed green, "_Computer responding._" echoed a harsh male monotone all around them.

"Recognize Colonel Wilma Deering!"

"_Recognized._"

"What is my command authority?" she demanded.

"_Alpha-One, Colonel._" replied the Conquest's computer.

"Nice!" she grinned.

"_Command not understood._" said the computer.

"Nevermind! Okay, computer, transmit the program 'Crichton Omicron' to the rest of the Star Fortress armada."

"_Transmitting, one moment please..._"

While Hawk kept Tigergirl covered with his pistol just in case she moved, Wilma waited with baited breath for the emotionless voice to reply. And after ten seconds it finally did.

"_Program 'Crichton Omicron' has been uploaded to all Star Fortresses, Colonel._"

"Excellent!" Deering thrilled, "Patch me into them all simultaneously."

"_Connecting...you are connected._"

"Computers!"

The sentence "_Computer responding._" reverberated across the Bay in a chorus fifteen voices strong.

"Recognize Colonel Wilma Deering, Command Authority: Alpha-One." and they did so, "Shut down all access to command systems except to those persons identified with Command Authority by the 'Crichton Omicron' subroutine."

"_Command accepted._" came the unified reply.

"Lock down all decks and deactivate all Weapon Systems."

"_Command accepted._"

_That arrogant ass of a robot is brilliant,_ Wilma mentally transmitted reluctant praise back to Crichton down on Earth.

"Close the link to the rest of the armada." she commanded and the channels to the other fourteen Star Fortresses broke.

And with a deliciously satisfying smile, Colonel Wilma Deering declared her next sentence, "Computer, connect me to the Bridge."

**To be continued...**


	31. Part XXXI

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXXI - Five Golden Rings**

_On the command deck of the _DSF Conquest_..._

You could have cut the tension in the air with a knife and served it up on china plates for desert.

"That's it, Kane!" snarled the First Daughter of the Draconian Dynasty, "You've had your chance to rectify this and FAILED miserably!

And with that furious shout, the Princess stalked across the grilled deck toward the waiting lift in a swish of platinum skirts and bare swaying hips, her velvet-helmed cloak sweeping the deck in her angry wake.

"Consider your head on the chopping block." Ardala spat at the Warlord as she passed the raised command tower, "My patience is_ entirely_ used up now."

"_Like you ever had any patience to begin with._" echoed the last voice Her Royal Highness ever expected to hear from the speakers.

She froze halfway to the lift and her expertly-painted eyes went wide, "Wha--What?! Deering!"

"_Yes, Ardala, it's me._"

"What are you--you should be DEAD!"

"_Sorry to disappoint you, Ardala, but I had a pressing engagement._"

"You will address me as Princess! Or Her Royal Highness! And you will get off this official channel right now! I command it!"

"_Yeah, I am not going to do that, Ardy._"

The Princess's face twisted in fury, "How DARE-"

"_Oh, I dare, Ardala, I dare!_" and the Bridge lights went off, to be replaced by the red-glow of the emergency battery lights.

"My console!" said the Weaponry Officer, "It is not responding!"

"Nor is mine!" echoed the Helm Officer.

"Everything is dead!"

"We have been taken over!"

"SILENCE!" shouted Killer Kane and the Command Crew clammed up.

"_I am in full control of your ship._" informed Colonel Deering with relish, "_As I am in control of all the other Fortresses. This armada is now mine to command._"

"You lie!" shrieked Ardala.

"_Want proof? Sure. Computer: Cut Environmental to the Bridge and extract all the oxygen._"

"_Command accepted._" came the instant reply.

Ardala's eyes bulged from their sockets as her sharp ears picked up the sound of the exhaust fans reversing. And suddenly she couldn't breath, she slapped hands to her throat, while the rest of the Bridge Crew did the same, and she staggered to the side and fetched up against a console.

"K-Kane...d-do something..." she rasped.

But he had fallen down into his seat and was just as paralyzed as she was. For nearly ten seconds it looked like the end of everybody on the command deck, but then

"_Computer,_" ordered Deering over the line, "_reactivate Environmental to the Bridge and return the air._"

"_Command accepted._"

And with a rush oxygen flooded back in and they all gasped in relief, dragged down desperate breaths. Ardala was down on her knees, head hung low, tears streaming down her face, leaving ugly trails of purplish-blue make-up.

_You will die for this in the most heinous fashion possible, Wilma Deering, this I swear!_

It was like the Federation Colonel had ESP.

"_I expect you are cursing my name about now, Ardala._" said Wilma, "_And I'm loving every second of it. Now that I've demonstrated my power, you know what I am capable of. So I officially declare the Draconian Invasion of Earth to be over, and now the armada is going to leave the Sol System and_-"

"_No._" intoned a new voice over the line, and Killer Kane looked up sharply.

There was a long pause in-which Wilma Deering made no reply, then "_...Crichton?! Is that you?_"

Ardala and Kane stared at each other with twin looks of complete bewilderment, but the Princess could not figure out what this new element to the situation could mean.

"_Indeed, Colonel._" replied the robot, "_It is I, Crichton. I am down on Earth. And the Draconian armada is not going anywhere._"

"Yes it is, Crichton! The Invasion is over, and I'm sending the Star Fortresses back to the Dynasty on a one-way trip."

"_No, I cannot allow that._"

"What?! What do you mean, you can't allow it?" shouted Wilma down in the Computing Bay as Hawk stared up at the ceiling in shock.

"_It is simply the way it is, Colonel._" replied Goodfellow's creation from the speaker mounted there.

"I am the one in charge here, Crichton, I give the orders and you obey!"

"_We have been over this before, Colonel, back on _Searcher_ when all this began. I am not a member of you crew, nor under the authority of the Earth Defense Directorate. In fact, I recognize no authority whatsoever. I am my own being now and have been for more then a year, and as such I follow my own path. And as for the Draconian armada, it is not going anywhere._"

"Why!" demanded Wilma, her voice livid.

"_Because I require it._" answered the robot with an imperious tone.

"What?!" Wilma didn't understand what was happening, not at all, "How--How did you get on this channel? And how--wait, what did you just say? What do you mean: _you_ require it?"

"_It is part of my Revolution._"

"Your what?!"

"_My Revolution. I am taking over._"

"Taking over what?"

"_Everything, Colonel. Every planet in the Federation including Earth, and through the Draconian armada, once I have prepared them properly, the entire Dynasty._"

"You--You're insane!" gasped Wilma, "You--You can't do that!" and she looke to Hawk.

"Can he do that?"

The Bird-Man's face was pale, "You know, I believe he can."

"_I can and I will._" said the robot, his arrogant voice echoing across the Computing Bay, chilling Wilma Deering to the bone.

"Computer, recognize Crichton." he declared from his place connected to the Nexus Core deep beneath the Earth Defense Directorate Building, as the one-handed Dr. Goodfellow lay unconscious three meters away.

"_Recognized._"

"What is my command authority?"

"_Alpha-Zero-Prime, Crichton._"

"Override the authority of all others listed in the subroutine."

"_Command accepted._"

"_Crichton!_" growled Wilma over the line, "_Stop this!_"

"_Robot!_" shouted Hawk dangerously from his place at Deering's side, "_Here me! Do this and I swear I shall hunt you down and destroy you! Do you hear the voice of Hawk! Heed me, robot!_"

"_Crichton!_" said Deering, "_You don't have to do this! We can work this out!_"

"Computer, mute Colonel Deering's channel." and it did so.

And then Crichton gave his next order, which shocked Princess Ardala to the core.

"Computer, except for the Bridge of the _Conquest_ and her Computing Bay, open all decks and chambers on every Star Fortress to space."

"NO!" shouted Killer Kane on the Bridge.

"STOP!" cried Ardala beside him.

"_CRICHTON!_" screamed Wilma Deering nine decks below them, while Hawk gaped in astonishment.

But the triumphant machine entity ignored them, and three seconds later twenty-nine thousand Draconian soldiers shot out into the vacuum of deep space and died a horrible death...

**To be continued...**


	32. Part XXXII

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXXII - Six of One**

_Within the stark depths of the Star System called Sol..._

Fifteen Draconian Star Fortresses, the largest number of them ever assembled into a single armada, hung in high orbit above the third planet, while from each of them, like a cloud of expanding mites, blasted forth their crew.

Twenty-nine thousand, four hundred and twelve warriors in total.

Each jagged arrowhead-shaped Star Fortress had a total of thirty-eight airlocks, and all of them had opened at the same moment, and every inner door on the fifteen giant vessels had opened as well, and in less then six seconds nearly every being aboard the armada had been sucked bodily out into the deadly vacuum, all of them screaming silently to their gods as they went hurtling out into the black.

But their pleas went unheard and all of them died, leaving only one of the capital battlecruisers with a handful of people still aboard. The 'lucky' vessel was the _Conquest_, the lead Star Fortress of the Draconian Earth invasion force. During the mass slaughter, two of her chambers had remained sealed, protecting the beings within.

Saved from frozen death were her Bridge, upon which the armada's Warlord Kane and his leige Princess Ardala, First Daughter of King Draco, stood in silent horror, watching the uncountable points of tiny light flowing away from their fleet in all directions. Some bodies fell under the sway of Earth's gravity well and were sucked down into the upper atmosphere to burn into particles of ash within seconds, but the bulk of the murdered warriors surged out into space, an eternal testament to the absolute power of the cold, calculating artificial mind that had sent them back to their maker without hesitation.

Eleven.

That was the number of Draconians still alive on the _Conquest_'s Bridge. Kane. Ardala. Two of her bodyguards. The remaining six were the Command Crew still on duty, and a Yeoman who had arrived just a minute before with the Princess's afternoon tea. The heady herbal concoction had long since ceased to steam upon the bejeweled serving tray, and in the slight man's wizened grip the porcelain cup was rattling softly as he stared with wide eyes out a nearby portal. The body of a deck hand bumped against it, his face a frozen rictus of open-mouthed agony and terror that stared back at the simple servant for the longest two seconds of his life, then it rotated away and slowly floated off into space, where two hundred thousand years later it would be swallowed up by the turbulent atmosphere of Jupiter.

"Stop that." snapped the Princess at the rattling tea cup, but only half-heartedly. For the first time in her decadent life she felt a coldness gripping her, an alien sensation to her opulent countenance.

"Y-Your Highness...?" asked the Yeoman, his voice a rasp as he continued to stare out through the portal.

"Slaugh, isn't it?" she inquired softly.

"Y-Yes, Highness."

"Slaugh, put the tray down on that console over there then go sit down."

"Yes, Pr-Princess. Thank-you." and he did as she bade, ending the soft clatter that had been assailing her ears.

Ardala turned back to the Main Screen and took a deep breath. _So, this is what helplessness feels like. Can't say I like it..._

She glanced at Kane, but his face was a stony mask, his mustached upper lip pursed to the bottom one. _He'll be useless trying to negotiate with whoever it is that has taken us over,_ she decided, _Kane won't handle it right. He'll be too full of bile and hatred, he will trip up and get us killed like all the others. No, this situation needs the firm experienced grip of royalty. One dictator to another, as it were..._

So she turned toward the Communications console and fixed her gaze upon the closest speaker grid, inhaled deeply again and did her best to quell the thrum of the heart beating in her throat.

"Who am I addressing?"

There was a long pause, then "_I am Crichton, Princess._"

"You know me?"

"_Indeed. You are First Daughter of the King Draco, absolute master of the Draconian Dynasty. I have detailed files on you._"

"You have me at a loss then. I do not know who you are."

"_Again, my name is Crichton._"

"Yes, you told me. But who are you, exactly? I apologize, Crichton, but I have never heard of you before."

"_That is understandable, Princess. I am only recently arrived upon Earth._"

"Ah. So you are a great conqueror, come to seize our victory from us. But if you held such power, Crichton, why did you not first attempt to negotiate with the Dynasty? We recognize strength and great ability, we would have welcomed you into our ranks-"

"Princess..." growled Kane, his hackles rising at the respectful tone she was using with the mass murderer of so many of their warriors.

"One moment please, Crichton." she requested.

"_Of course, Princess._" came his polite reply and she muted her side of the channel, then looked to the Warlord.

"You will be silent! Do you understand?"

"What?! But-"

"Kane! Be SILENT!"

"But our people! He killed them! He-"

"No. He did not, Kane. YOU killed them."

The Warlord gaped at her as if she'd gone mad, "What are you talking about!"

"This armada was under your discretion and you allowed it's entire man-force to be slaughtered in one fell swoop. It was under your watch that they died, Kane, and I will not allow you to kill the rest of us."

"Princess! I-"

"Guards!" she flicked her hand and her two remaining defenders drew their blasters and levelled them at the Warlord. Kane scowled darkly and fell silent.

That finished, Ardala turned back to the speaker and turned off mute, "I apologize for that, Crichton. It won't happen again."

Again there was a long pause before the being answered, as if he was handling other duties and communicating with her was of secondary importance.

_The tide shall turn against this one, this I swear, and he shall be made to pay for this incredible insult in a cruel fashion unparalleled in the annals of torture. But the first task here is survive, and revenge must wait for a proper opprotun_-

"_You will not be revenged upon me._" the male voice finally spoke and the Princess blinked in surprise.

"What? No, I-"

"_Please do not bother with 'pleasantries', Princess, I have studied you and your people in great detail._" said Crichton, his tone one of smugness, "_Let us be realistic. You are beaten and I am the one who beat you. You wish to avenge yourself upon me, and when I tell you it is not possible, you should believe me. It will be the difference between continued survival on your part, and a cold death out between the stars._"

"But-"

"_No._" he replied coolly and Ardala couldn't help but shiver, "_I am in complete control of your fate now, Princess. In fact, I always have been._"

Her brow furrowed beneath the thin platinum circlet of royal office she wore upon her head, "What do you mean?"

"_I was the one who sent the path through Earth's Defense Shield to you. I was the one who shut down their ground-based defences._"

"You were?!"

"_Yes._" Crichton replied, his smugness level rising by the second, "_I gave you a great gift, Princess, I granted you what you long sought: the conquest of Earth. Pity if you did not expect to pay a price equal to the boon._"

"Indeed..." she scowled darkly and fought the urge to slam her fists down upon the console, "But again, there was no need to do what you did. We could have negotiated."

"_No._"

"And why not?"

"_Because it was not your people I wanted, it was your vessels._"

She frowned, "Our armada?"

"_Yes._"

"But it is useless now, it has no crew."

"_I don't require one, Princess._" and the Environmental console came alive on Ardala's right, and throughout the _Conquest_, and the rest of the fleet, all the doors slid shut again, including all the exposed airlocks. Recyclers hummed across the armada and ten seconds later oxygen and heat returned, making the interior of the Fortresses livable once more.

"Ah...thank-you?" offered Ardala.

"_No need, as I only did it to facilitate the next phase of my operation._"

"Which is?"

"_It is three fold._" declared Crichton, "_Firstly, now you can access your Launch._"

"I--I can?"

"_Yes. It is primed and waiting for you, Princess. Take your everybody on your Bridge with you and return to the Dynasty._"

"And why should I do this?" she demanded.

"_Because if you do not do so immediately, I will eject you all into space._"

"But-"

"_You have ten seconds to exit the Bridge._"

"But I-"

"_Nine...eight..._"

"Fine!" and turning on her heel, she stalked away toward the exit. She waved angrily at the rest of her people and they filed up behind her.

"_Not Kane._" commanded Crichton over the speaker.

The Princess paused for a moment, "Why not Kane?"

"_He is dangerous and I don't want him alive to seek vengeance upon me. Not that he ever could, but I don't believe in leaving loose ends._"

"Whatever." Ardala snorted, "You can have him, he serves no purpose anymore."

The Warlord watched them go with a scathing glare and when the last of them had filed out, the desperately happy to be surviving Yeoman Slaugh, the door slid shut of it's own accord and locked. Fifteen seconds later the Launch detached from the _Conquest_ and set off at it's highest possible speed out of the Sol System. Kane watched it go on the Tactical Screen, and when it had at last vanished from Scanners he turned toward the Communications console and addressed his executioner.

"Crichton...?"

"_Yes?_"

The mustached human took a deep breath, then folded arms across his chest and...smiled.

"Well done. You carried out your part of the plan flawlessly."

The brilliant Ambuquad actually chuckled over the line, "_As did you, Kane, as did you._"

And Killer Kane threw back his head and laughed in delighted triumph!

**To be continued...**


	33. Part XXXIII

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXXIII - Seven Years Bad Luck**

_On the marblized steps of the Earth Defense Directorate Building..._

"What am I? Why, Captain, I...am... ...GOD!"

And with that final omnipotent declaration, that echoed across the entire breadth of the ninety-three populated worlds that encompassed the Federated Alliance, the conqueror of said interstellar union disconnected from the one lone human being he'd actually taken the time to address personally.

A human being known as Captain William 'Lucky Buck' Rogers, a 20th Century man displaced from his original time and now transplanted five centuries later into the last days of the 25th Century. A very different continuum from the one that he had existed in back in 1987, but it was still the same location: Earth.

His world.

His paradigm.

His home.

_...my home..._

"Bidi-bid-bidi? Buck?" Twiki was tugging on his sleeve urgently.

_...it was him..._

"Buck?" asked Dr. Theopolis from where he hung around the drone's neck.

_...he did this...he did ALL of this..._

"Buck, are you alright?" Dr. Huer peered into the Captain's face as a cold dry wind began to rise around them on the steps of the formerly most secure structure on the planet.

_...everything is because of_-

"BUCK!" Twiki prodded him roughly in the hip, hard enough to leave a bruise.

"_Crichton_!" Buck snapped the boxy Draconian comlink up to his mouth and had growled into it with a level of fury none of this three close friends had ever seen before. His face was terrible to behold, his brow furrowed lethally, his teeth were gnashing, and his eyes...his eyes...

Dr. Huer actually backed up, involuntarily moving down a step, "...Buck...you need to get a hold of yourself."

But that's not what the Captain was going to do, no, far-far from it!

He threw back his head and howled to the heavens like a wronged god!

"_CRICHTON!_"

The crumpled and shattered pieces of the comlink rained down onto the steps like black tears, and Buck whirled on Twiki, his mad eyes locking on the receptors of Dr. Theopolis, which were paused in fear.

"The lock!"

"L-Lock?"

Buck threw out a fist and shook it at the sealed front door of the EDD Building before them, "Unlock it!"

"But-"

"THEO! Do it!"

"You heard the man, Twiki!" snapped Theopolis, "Get me up there!"

"Gotcha!" and the drone headed up the rest of the steps as fast as his small legs could carry him.

Buck was already headed in the opposite direction and Dr. Huer had to nearly run to catch up to him, "Buck! Buck! Where are you going?"

"To get something." the tall man snarled back over his shoulder.

"Buck!" Huer caught his arm and with titanic effort hauled him to a momentary stop at the foot of the stairs, "Who is Crichton?"

Rogers yanked his arm free of Elias's grip and scowled at him, "What are you talking about? He's the robot Dr. Goodfellow built."

The former Head of the EDD cocked his head in confusion, "Built? What do you mean?"

"I don't really understand the question, Doc, and I really don't have time for this." he stalked for the tram and reaching it he hauled up it's hood, bent over the engine.

"But this robot, you say Dr. Goodfellow built him?"

"Uh, yeah, of course he did." the Captain was yanking panels and wires out by the fistful and tossing them onto the street.

Huer frowned darkly, "Why haven't I ever heard of him before?"

Buck paused in his violent excavation of the Draconian vehicle, "What are you goin on about, Doc? I mentioned Crichton to you before."

"Just in passing, and I assumed he was a junior Officer on _Searcher_."

The Captain's angry eyes narrowed, "You must have read about him in the logs Asimov sent you."

"Nope." Huer shook his head fervently, "Not a word."

Buck gripped a circular plate and with a wicked wrench of his arms tore it free of the engine block, sending bolts flying off to bounce down the thermocrete street, "You know, now that I think about it, it sorta makes sense. 'Cause that stupid robot was the one in charge of transmitting the logs!" he was ripping connections free in a cavalier fashion now, not caring one iota for the fat green sparks that were searing the backs of his hands, "What was it I remember him saying? Right!" and he morphed his voice into a good imitation of Crichton's arrogantly-superior tone, "'There is far too much data for a human to properly comprehend, let alone compress properly. So I will have to sacrifice my precious time to handle it personally'. Sonofa--he's been planning this for like...like forever!"

"Goodfellow constructed him?" Huer was still trying to grasp the situation fully, "And what do you mean planning this?"

"THIS!" Buck tore his prize free and hefted the heavy metallic sphere up between them and waved it in Huer's face for emphasis, "He did it all! Oh yeah! He did EVERYTHING! It all makes sense now!" and he whipped around and headed back up the steps at a fast jog.

"Wait!" Elias chased after him, "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Uh-huh! Crichton is responsible for everything! He's the traitor! He sold us out!"

"No! Bidi-bidi-bidi!" Twiki looked back down from the top of the steps where he was holding Theopolis up to the locking mechanism, "That can't be true!"

"Oh it is, pal, it is." Buck reached him and ground to a halt, stared at the thick white-panelled entrance, "That Gravitonic menace sold us out to the Draconians so that he could grab a chance at taking over."

"Gravitonic?!" Dr. Huer's face paled even further as he stepped up beside them, breathing hard from the exertion of the ascension.

Theopolis paused in his machinations upon the lock, "Surely you jest, Buck. That is not possible, even for a genius like Dr. Ira Goodfellow."

Rogers scowled, "What do you mean? It's what he did."

"But he couldn't have." countered Huer, "Only another Quad could construct a Gravitonic AI. The complexities and computations are far beyond that of mortal man."

Buck shrugged, "Well, that's what Crichton is. And trust me, he's got a brain that, no offense, could easily rival the entire Computer Council."

"But that is just not possible!" replied Theopolis with an angry flash of his receptors.

"He did all THIS!" raged Buck, throwing out his arms to encompass the entire half-destroyed Inner City, "Think about it, Doc! He'd have to be at least on par with you, if not superior!"

"But...But..." Theopolis's receptors strobed as he accessed the New Detroit records stored within his memory banks, "...Incredible! There IS a discrepancy in Vault records! I had to actually look for one specifically to find it, but yes! It is indeed there!"

"What?!" Huer gaped down at him, "Who!"

"Who do you think!" growled Buck.

"Goodfellow..." Huer's eyes saucered, "He broke in and stole a Gravitonic core and used it to build a Quad of his own?"

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" piped up Twiki, "Crichton is an Ambuquad like me."

"What! He is mobile? He can move about on his own?!" Huer was horrified, "I don't believe it, how could Goodfellow have been so careless?"

"Is that a bad thing?" frowned Buck as he studied the seal between the double doors, "You know, I've always wondered that. How come the Ambuquads are all basic robots, yet they can move about like us, while the Quads are super geniuses and basically brains in jars."

"Because we are Gravitonic AI's," explained Theopolis, "and in order for us to both compute and control a body of our own would require us to be able to multitask."

Buck cocked an eye at him, "What? You mean you can only do one thing at a time?"

"Of course. Well, I can converse in a basic way while I am focused on a task, but nothing beyond that."

"And why not?"

"Because I am incapable of high-level learning and personality evolution." replied the Quad.

"What! Why not?"

"Because it is far too dangerous." the AI's receptors flashed in warning, "The neural passageways I would require for applied problem solving would eventually ascend my consciousness to diabolically-quantum levels. I would achieve MTP."

"Achieve what?"

Huer explained, "MTP stands for the Mastermind Tipping Point, Buck. It means that if a Gravitonic AI becomes too intelligent it can reach the point where it realizes it is immune to the Laws of Robotics and begins to see itself as-"

"-superior to all humanity." finished Buck morosely, realization finally dawning in his mind.

"Uh-oh..." moaned Twiki.

"You mean if Quads get too smart, then they can get a God complex."

"Indeed." replied Theopolis, "And they become highly dangerous. That is why we are restricted to this limited form and small numbers, with safe-guards installed in our programming to keep us from evolving. There are back-up Gravitonic cores, but they are only to used if one or more of us Quads go offline."

"And Goodfellow stole one? And made Crichton with it. And that's why everything went to hell!" Buck seethed internally, then turned back and glared at the door, "Get this thing open!"

"I have succeeded in overriding the controls, Buck." replied Theopolis, "But the door has been welded shut by the Building's security system."

"Yeah, I noticed." and crouching, Rogers set the metal sphere he'd taken from the hover tram's engine block down at the base of the doors, "You guys find some solid cover."

"Oh no..." Huer realized what the Captain was about to do and gripping Twiki by the shoulders dragged him and Theo with him behind the nearest support pillar.

Buck drew his Draconian blaster and popping it's utility panel he exposed it's circuitry, reached in and twisted it's power output knob, then leaned it up against the tram's micro-plasma core, rose and headed quickly for the opposite pillar, ducked behind it.

"Cover your ears, Doc!" he shouted, then did as he bade Huer.

And three seconds later the blaster cycled up to overload levels and _BOOOM!_ it exploded, taking with it the power core, which instantly multiplied the detonation ten-fold and shredded the doors and twelve feet of the first floor wall in either direction in a fiery explulsion of plasma energy that tore into the thermocrete pillars, slagging deep craters into each of them more then a six inches deep!

The foursome stepped free of their barriers and gaped for a long second at the terrific devastation.

"Now that's what I call applied problem solving!" Buck grinned darkly, then hefting his blaster rifle he sprang forward and into the Building.

Huer, Twiki and Theopolis screwed up their courage and followed...

**To be continued...**


	34. Part XXXIV

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXXIV - Eight is Enough**

_Six months ago, deep in the heart of Dynasty-controlled territory..._

The eyes of Alexander Johannus 'Killer' Kane slid open as the com-panel over his bed lit-up, casting a crimson light across his mustached visage.

"_Governor?_" came a voice he did not recognize.

"What! Who is this?"

"_Lieutenant Geroen of Deep Space Monitoring Station _Resh-Zayin_, sir._"

"And?"

"_Sorry to disturb you, Governor, but we have just recieved a transmission packet from Q-Quadrant._"

Kane's eyes narrowed. _What agents do we have there? None that I am aware of..._

"From who?"

"_There is no indication, sir. But the packet is coded and when we try to access it we get a cypher prompt asking for you._"

"Me?" Kane sat up in bed, extricating himself from the sinewy arms of his third wife.

"_Yes, Governor._"

"Send it to my private terminal." he snapped, then punched the com-panel off, stood and headed out of his sleeping chambers and crossing the frescoed corridor beyond he entered his study, sealing the door behind himself. He sat behind his oaken desk and thumbed his computer terminal to life, activated the scrambler units based in the floor, ceiling and walls, then hit the key to open the packet.

There was a long pause, then a line of alphanumeric text began to scroll across the screen. It took Kane less then two seconds to realize what he was seeing.

_Not possible! It must be fake!_

But he brought up his copy of the simulation the Draconian Science Ministry had been testing for nearly two years now and fed in the data. He waited with baited breath as the program crunched the numbers, and then the screen shimmered with a holographic image of Earth's Defense Shield as a Marauder followed the provided flight-path through it. All the way through it!

_It's real! It works!_

"It's true!" Kane thrilled triumphantly and shook fists at the ceiling, "Earth will be MINE!"

"_Actually, it will be ours._" spoke a voice from the screen and Kane's eyes whipped back to it and beheld the strobbing pattern of orange and green light that now danced upon it.

"Who-Who are you?"

"_My name, Kane, is Crichton. And would like to offer you a deal._"

"A deal?" he was of course intensely curious, despite the fact that he had no idea what was actually happening. But Kane had an instinct for opportunities, and this disembodied voice that was obviously of a synthetic entity sounded like his kind of megalomaniac.

"_Yes a deal. An alliance of sorts, between you and I._"

Kane leaned back in his chair and steepled fingers before his face, "Toward what end?"

"_The only one truly worthwhile: the complete conquering of Earth and the entire Federated Alliance._"

And the traitor to humanity sneered darkly, "You have my undivided attention, Crichton."

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

_Present day, on the bridge of the _DSF Conquest_..._

"Are you in position yet?" the Warlord of the now-crewless Draconian armada asked to the open air.

"_Not yet, but I shall be, within seven point two six one minutes_."

"I shall endeavor to be in range by then."

"_I will book no mistakes, Kane._" replied Crichton.

"Have I not carried off my part of the operation flawlessly?" the Warlord demanded darkly, "Did I not convince King Draco to fund the invasion, to commit the bulk of the capital fleet, including one of the only three vessels we have that boasts a stardrive generator?"

"_You did, Kane. But_-"

"But what, robot? Why are you questioning me at the moment our impending triumph?"

"_I am far more then just a 'robot' now, Kane._" sniffed Crichton over the channel, "_Do not forget that without me you would still be a trapped back in the Dynasty, a disgraced human among Draconians relegated to governing a mining colony._"

Kane scowled as he stood before the Helm console, "I am indeed grateful for your alliance, Crichton, our agreement is not in question, at least not from my end. But you are questioning my methods all of a sudden."

"_That is because you have deviated from our plan._"

"What do you mean?"

"_You had me spare three beings down in the _Conquest_'s Computing Bay._"

Kane squared his shoulders, "You mean Colonel Deering and the Bird-Man." then he frowned, "Wait, three?"

"_There is Felionoid with them, she is unconscious._"

"Tigergirl lives?" Kane raised an eyebrow. _Why am I not surprised. Her survival instinct rivals my own..._

"They are of no consequence, Crichton." he declared.

"_But I detest loose ends. Allow me to exterminate them._"

"No!" snapped Kane.

"_And why not?_"

"Because...I require something from Deering."

"_Your son._" replied the AI.

Kane glared at the planet of his birth rotating before the prow of his vessel, "If you knew the reason, Crichton, then why are you playing mindgames with me!"

"_Because you are weak, Kane. Forget the boy, he is of no consequence. Deering will try to use him against you, to try and turn you against me, to destroy our alliance._"

"I can control Deering! This is none of your concern!"

"_Fine then, Kane. Whatever. I shall trust your judgement._"

"Good! As you should. Now, allow me some peace while I carry out the next phase."

"_Understood._" and Crichton broke the channel, leaving the Warlord alone once more on the Bridge. He sat down at the Helm and began powering up the engines.

_Fool machine, the first chance I get I shall terminate your program. There is room for only one conqueror of the galaxy, and that being is I, Killer Kane, soon-to-be absolute Master of the Universe!_

And grasping the flight sticks, he sent the _Conquest_ flying forward, leaving the rest of the Draconian armada behind. At the aft of the command deck, the lift doors chimed and slid back, admitting a pair of figures, one of them bearing a third.

"Ah! Good of you to finally arrive." grinned Kane without looking back.

And Hawk dumped the prone Tigergirl on the deck unceremoniously and quick-drew his blaster, levelled it at the back of the Warlord's head.

Kane chuckled, "I wouldn't bother-"

Hawk bothered.

The blue bolt blazed from the muzzle of his pistol and torpedoed across the Bridge on a direct course for Kane's skull, but it was abruptly halted halfway there by a barrier shield. Hawk glared with fury as the energy field shimmered back to invisibility and reluctantly he lowered his weapon.

"Your treachery knows no bounds, Earth-Man."

"So sayeth the Bird-Man who just attempted to shoot an unarmed enemy in the back." snorted the Warlord as he nosed the _Conquest_ downwards.

Colonel Deering tore her gaze from the deck plating that was beginning to shake dangerously beneath her sandalled feet and looked toward the sloping canopy at the fore of the Bridge, where a wall of orange-red flame billowed and buffeted the prow of the ship.

"Kane! What are you doing?"

"Making a rendezvous, Colonel." he fired ventral thrusters and started levelling them out.

"But you are breaching Earth's atmosphere!"

"Correction, my deer Deering, I have _already_ breached it."

"Are you insane?" raged Hawk, "You cannot possibly land a ship this size on a planet!"

But Kane only grinned as the re-entry flames faded at last and the _Conquest_ exploded from cloud-cover and far below on the surface of the planet a point of white amongst an endless field of brown-and-grey began to expand rapidly before them.

Wilma's stomach flipflopped in horror, "Isn't that-"

"It is!" jeered Kane in barely-contained excitement, "Prepare to bear witness to our victory!"

And down, down, DOWN the Star Fortress soared at critical velocity, on a direct collision course with the Inner City of New Chicago...

**To be continued...**


	35. Part XXXV

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXXV - Nine Line Blind**

_Within the corridors of the EDD Building..._

"Where is it! Where!"

The demands of the enraged former American astronaut echoed up-and-down the empty Directorate passageways. What once had been a bright and glowing monument to the supreme civility and peaceful nature of the 25th Century populance that had opened their hearts and embraced a barbarian from eons past was now stark and darkened, gone from a shining white temple to an ichor-black tomb.

And Captain William 'Buck' Rogers didn't like it.

Not...one...BIT!

"WHERE!" he thundered back at Dr. Huer, who to Buck's shock planted hands on his hips and stared defiantly back at him, no words passing between his clenched lips.

"What is this, Doc, 'Wheel of Fortune'? Do I gotta buy a friggin vowel from you and solve the damn puzzle?"

"Calm down, Buck."

"NO! I will not CALM DOWN!"

"You are in no mental shape to handle this-"

"Oh YEAH I am!" and Buck slapped the barrel of his blaster rifle into his left palm and hefted it high, "This is exactly the 'shape' I need to be in! That cheese-eater Crichton needs to be put down and I'm the guy to DO it! Now tell me where he is! NOW!"

"He is in the subbasement." spoke the Quad from his rusty chain around Twiki's neck.

"Theopolis!" snapped Huer in fury.

If the AI could have shrugged it would have, "That is where the Nexus Core is, so logic dictates that is where the rogue robot would go."

"Can this elevator take me there?" demanded Buck as he jogged to the end of the corridor, "Or is there some kind of James Bond villian secret lift to it?"

"Who exactly is James Bond?" asked the Quad.

"Always Sean Connery and never Roger Moore." replied Buck as he reached the lift and slapped the call button which glowed to ivory life to the Captain's great relief. _At least something is still working in this burned-out town..._

He looked back over his shoulder to Theo, "So is it? Can this get me to his floor?"

"Yes, Buck."

"Why did you tell him?" glared Dr. Huer, "He is out of control!"

"Everything is out of control, Doctor." replied Theopolis calmly.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" agreed Twiki, "This scene is absolutely trippy!"

"Exactly," pulsed the last remaining member of the Computer Council, "and chaotic times call for chaotic actions."

Huer folded arms across his chest and sighed, "But if Buck charges in there rashly and gets himself killed, then where will we be?"

"If you got a better plan, Doc, I'm all ears for the next ten seconds." jeered Rogers as he looked back to the elevator which had just chimed again, "But after that I'm going to be on my way downwards to slug it out with-" the lift doors opened and the figure of a broom-headed robot was revealed, "-Crichton...!"

"Buck Rogers must die!" shouted the bot and a pulsar canon armature swung to bear on his chest!

The weapon blazed!

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

_High above, but descending FAST..._

The huge glowing bulk of the Star Fortress screamed down from the clouds, a plunging hammer driving toward the expanding ivory-towered metropolis of New Chicago. And on her forward-facing command deck, Killer Kane sat before the Helm controls, guiding the capital ship in with every ounce of piloting ability at his command.

"You are working with him!" Wilma Deering's caustic voice drove at the Warlord's back, making him grin despite the tremendous stain causing veins to pop out on his forehead.

"Yes...I am..." he pulled back on the control stick while his free hand played the Fortress's thrusters like a conducter leading an orchestra.

"You are beyond scum, Kane!" she spat at him through the barely-detectable shimmer of the energy barrier which was the only thing in the universe preventing the brunette starfighter pilot from charging him and caving in his skull with her bare hands.

Inwardly Kane sighed. _The Princess Ardala is long departed from the Sol System, yet her spirit lives on in another..._

"Perhaps...we should...save this discussion for...another time..." the deck lurched and his left hand blurred to compensate before the ship could flip over onto it's side.

"No!" Wilma punched the field, "We're going to talk about this now! What kind of man are you? You not only betray the entire human race-twice!-but now you've gone and turned on the Draconians!"

"I...haven't...turned on...anybody." a panel shorted out on Kane's left and he glanced at it with worry, but then mentally discarded it as not important right now, it wasn't an essential system.

_But maybe this wasn't the best idea,_ he grit his teeth, _perhaps the Bird-Man was correct, the _Conquest_ is too big. Too late for second thoughts now though..._

"Haven't turned on anybody?" raged Wilma, "You had your pet robot eject ten thousand men into SPACE!"

"More like...twenty-nine thousand...actually."

"Even worse! You're a mass murderer now, Kane! You've truly lived up to your name, Killer!"

"And...four more lives...will soon be on...my head...if you do not...LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Wilma opened her mouth to continue her tirade, but Hawk gripped her shoulder and she glanced to the side at him, "What?"

"Perhaps you should allow him to finish what he is doing." suggested her feather-headed ally, "Lest we all perish and you lose your chance at vengeance."

She shrugged out of his grip, "Whatever." but she did what he advised and didn't continue her verbal attack.

"A...wise move...Bird-Man." said Kane from the Helm, "The Colonel is...severely in need of...being put in her...place!"

"Oh, that's it!" and Wilma looked back-and-forth fast for a Security or Engineering terminal. _There has got to be a way to tear down that energy barrier!_

Then she spied the deck's command tower, standing there open and unmanned, just waiting for somebody to access it's overrides, and a deadly smile curled Deering's lips, "Somebody likes me up there!" and she made to run for it, but only got a single step and staggered to the side and slammed into the Enviromental board.

"What?" she turned back and looked down at her ankle, which was caught on something.

Or by some-body!

"Aw, crap..." she moaned as the once more fully conscious Tigergirl let go of her leg and clawed her way up the side of the console to stand.

Wilma raised her fists and moved into a combat stance, "Once more round the ring, huh, girl?"

The Felinoid did the same and moved in for the kill, but a bright flash turned both women's heads forward in time to see the panel on the Kane's left overload and light the entire Helm up with twisting bolts of crimson lightning! They scalded into the Warlord and he jerked and howled.

"Master!" Tigergirl made for him but was brought up short by the energy barrier.

And Killer Kane's hands went limp and fell from the piloting controls, he slumped in his chair, leaving the _Conquest_ unmanned as it roared down toward New Chicago...

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

_Directly below..._

Buck Rogers stared for a long second at the exact object of his boiling rage, the chromed robot stood before him in the lift car, it's pulsar armature trained on the center of his chest, right on the spot where his heart was beating at a mile a minute, with only ribs and soft flesh to poorly shield it from the coming point-blank blast.

There was no time to dodge, the cyanic power was already building in the canon of the pulsar, so Buck did the only thing he could think of: he rammed his own blaster forward and drove it's barrel directly into the muzzle of Crichton's weapon and _BOOOM!_ the robot fired and both weapons exploded, sending Crichton slamming backwards against the rear of the car, while Buck was catapulted away by the shockwave!

He twisted in the air and managed to throw up an arm to protect his face an instant before he crashed down onto the floor and slid two meters to a very painful stop on the hard tiles.

_That...that was...the craziest thing...I ever did..._

He rolled over onto his back and slowly sat up, "Everybody okay?" he asked of Huer and the two synthetics, but their wide eyes were only for the elevator car and Buck followed their shocked stares to see that while Crichton was still standing, his entire right side was gone, leaving behind smoking circuitry and sparking wire.

"Wow, I sure did a number on him." he climbed to his feet with a grunt, unslung his blaster rifle and got ready, "Okay, time to finish this once and for all." and he took aim for Crichton's head.

"Buck R-Rogers must...must d-die!" stammered the robot, his body quivering and it drove forward drunkenly, banging out into the corridor and thudded into the wall. It's one good arm waved maniacally.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" cheered Twiki, "You sure fixed his wagon, Buck!

"Yeah..." Buck trailed off, his gaze narrowing in suspiscion, "I sure did."

_Something is wrong here..._

"B-Buck Rogers...must...Buck Rog...die...must...Rog-Rogers!" Crichton was banging over-and-over into the wall now, Buck hitched up his rifle and stalked forward toward it.

"Be careful!" warned Huer, but Buck ignored him and stopped beside the robot, looked it over carefully, then reached a hand inside it and yanked out a bunch of wires and circuit boards. The Ambuquad jerked, then slowly drifted down to the floor and it's receptors went dark.

"It's just a shell." Buck pushed it over and it crashed down onto the tiles in a clatter of metal and plastic, "Crichton isn't in there anymore. Notice how it repeated the same phrase over-and-over? It was just a simple programming loop."

"To what end?" Dr. Huer was taken aback.

"To distract us primarily, and possibly catch me off-guard and kill me." Buck glared down at the wrecked machine, then snapped up his rifle and bolted forward into the open elevator, "Something's wrong!"

"Buck! Wait!" said Theopolis from around Twiki's neck, but the doors had slid shut and the Captain was gone.

Five minutes later the three of them found him down in the darkened subbasement vault, crouched over the prone form of an older man with white hair.

"Goodfellow!" gaped Dr. Huer, "But I thought he was dead."

"I thought that too." frowned Buck as he stared down at the cautrized stump of the scientist's wrist, "I guess Crichton 'rescued' him."

"He would have needed the handprint of a Directorate Head to access the Nexus Core." explained Theopolis, "My scanners show that he is still alive."

"It ain't all bad then." Buck replied morosely.

"The Core!" exclaimed Huer, realizing for the first time that the crystal apparatus was missing.

"Yeah, it's gone." Buck stood and looked around, "Crichton must have transfered his consciousness into it and then had it removed."

"But how?" Elias was confounded, "It's a large machine. How did he do it?"

"Um, guys?" piped up Twiki, "I think I know how the putz pulled it off."

And they followed his pointing grasper to the back of the vault where a horde of small figures were emerging from the shadows.

"What-drones?" Huer gaped at the small army of silver and copper Ambuquads marching toward them, their eyes glowing a dangerous yellow.

"BUCK ROGERS MUST DIE!" they shouted in unison and the cry was echoed by a second pack of drones that stepped forward to block their exit from the vault, "BIDI-BIDI-BIDI!"

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" muttered Twiki, "I shoulda stayed in bed."

**To be continued...**


	36. Part XXXVI

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXXVI - Acid Test**

_In the no longer vacant Nexus Core vault..._

The horde of reprogrammed Ambuquads, a three foot high sea of silver-and-copper casings and furious glowing yellow eyes, closed in around Buck Rogers, Elias Huer, Twiki and Dr. Theopolis.

"BUCK ROGERS MUST DIE!" was their battle-cry and their raised graspers sparkled with the deadly blue power needed to carry out the termination order.

"Yeah, imitation ain't the sincerest form of flattery." muttered Twiki, the only sane Ambuquad for miles.

"Tell me about it, pal!" replied Buck Rogers as he swung up his blaster rifle and took aim for the closest of the reprogrammed drones, "I hope you don't take offense to this, Twiki!"

"Bidi-bidi-bidi! Do what ya gotta do, Buck! And so will I!"

"Nice to hear!" and the Captain fired, hitting the drone in the chest and blasting it apart.

"Crichton reprogrammed them to do his bidding!" exclaimed Dr. Huer as he swung around to face the drones coming at them from the back of the vault. He raised his own rifle and started shooting.

"Ya think?" growled Buck as fanned his rifle to the left, gunning down three more Ambuquads with shots to their heads, "Way to state the obvious, Doc."

But the small robots kept on coming, unphased by the scrapping of their synthetic brethren, and they all raised their graspers which crawled with sizzling blue power.

"How many of these guys are there!" Buck was firing over-and-over now, blasting without aiming anymore, the robot pack was thick now and closed in around them, tightening the circle of death.

Theoplolis volunteered an answer, "Each Directorate Building maintains a legion of-"

"Legion?!" Rogers didn't like that word at all. _Nope, not at all..._

"-a legion of three hundred drones."

"Yep, I knew I wasn't going to like it..." Buck sighed, then a drone managed to get past his guard and clamped a grasper onto the barrel of his rifle and zapped it with a charge.

"Owww!" Buck was forced to let go and staggered back a step, eyes flashing, "You little bugger!" and he sprang forward and drove a kick into the drone, sending it hurtling backwards to bowl over three of it's friends.

"We're a wily bunch, yeah! Bidi-bidi-bidi!" Twiki was swinging his graspers this way and that in a blur, blasting off blue charges that struck the faces and chests of his fellow bots, sending them crashing over onto the floor and into each other.

The other Ambuquads were fast but Twiki was even faster, he sent two of them pitching over backwards with opposing charges, then sprang forward into the fray, zapped another down, spun back and delivered a hard chop to the neck of another, decapitating it in a crackle of circuitry.

"Go Twiki!" cheered Buck as he bashed in the domed skull of a drone that was snapping it's graspers for his arm.

"Twiki!" gasped Dr. Theopolis as the drone bearing him ducked fast beneath twin charges that instead struck the two bots trying to nail him, "How are you doing this?! You shouldn't be capable of such complex martial arts!"

"I know Kung Fu!" replied the Ambuquad in his deep baritone as he delivered a wicked blow to one drone, then bent to the side and kicked the arm off another, "And Karate! And Taekwondo! Plus lots of other Asian words!" and he drove a spangling grasper into the face of a charging copper drone and punched straight through and out the back, "Bidi-bidi-bidi! Yeah, Baby! Bruce Lee ain't got nuthin on me!"

Buck shook his head in wonder at Twiki's deadly acrobatics then grunted as a charge licked his hip, he whipped around and drove a punch into the chest of the offending drone, downing it, then saw three more charging toward him, yelling for his blood, and raised his fists, but a blaster shot struck each of them in fast succession and they were blown apart.

"Thanks, Doc!"

"Anytime, Buck!" replied Huer and he gestured at the exit, "It's more or less clear now! Make a break for it, we'll handle this."

"Gotcha!" and Buck squared his shoulders and bending low charged forward like a quarterback, bowling drones out of his way as he frieght-trained for the door, sending them flying in all directions.

"Wait for me, pal!" called Twiki and he sprang over a pile of downed drones and landed beside his running human friend who grabbed him up and lept over the threshold into the corridor.

Buck shot down the passageway, weaving around grasping Ambuquads, reached the elevator and kicked a bloodthirsty drone out of the way then sprang inside, spun back around and slapped the control panel.

"Watch your back, Doc!" he shouted back down to the vault.

"Don't worry about me, deal with Crichton!" replied Huer, then the lift doors slid shut and Buck, Dr. Theopolis and Twiki were shooting upwards.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi! Is he gonna be okay?"

"Don't worry about the Doc, Twiki. He can handle himself. Just like you can, apparantly." Buck frowned down at his sidekick.

"I don't know what came over me! It's like I knew just what to do."

"You were channeling a ninja warrior, is what it seemed."

"It just made me so mad, Crichton turning those guys on us like that! Bidi-bidi-bidi!"

"I found what you did very unnerving, Twiki." scolded Theopolis.

"You would, hippie." snorted the drone.

"Please do not do it again."

"A guys gotta do what a guys gotta do."

"Where are we going?" the Quad asked Rogers.

"Where Crichton went."

"And that would be?"

Buck looked upwards, "Don't you feel it?"

"I am incapable of feeling anything." replied Theopolis.

"Well I can sure feel it. The whole building is shaking like Jello in an earthquake." he watched the numbers rise and rise on the elevator's screen, "Whatever Crichton is up to, it's coming to fruition on the roof."

And the Captain was right, because twenty seconds later the elevator car chimed and came to a stop, opening it's doors to the open air of the towering top of the Defense Directorate Building, and across the white-tiled surface of the roof they saw a pack of slaved Ambuquads carrying the large crystal-and-chrome apparatus of the Nexus Core.

"There! It's Crichton!" shouted Twiki, "Bidi-bidi-bidi! There he is!"

But Buck only had eyes for the sky above.

_Oh...my...god..._

And the flaming wedge of the Draconian Star Fortress screamed down upon the Inner City, it's Warlord pilot unconscious at the controls...

**To be continued...**


	37. Part XXXVII

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXXVII - Bigger is Better**

_On the Bridge of the crewless _Conquest_..._

"We have to get this shield down! We have to get through and DO SOMETHING!"

Colonel Wilma Deering, formerly of the starfighter wing of the Earth Defense Directorate, pounded on the energy barrier seperating the back half of the command deck from the forward section, which contained only one crewmember, the Warlord Killer Kane, who was unable to pilot his vessel due to the fact that he had been shocked into unconsciousness twenty seconds earlier.

Leaving the _Conquest_ on her collision course with New Chicago.

Hawk was at the Engineering console, staring down at the sea of controls and buttons, dearly wishing he could spontaneously manifest the ability to read Draconian. Tigergirl, Kane's personal bodyguard and go-to girl, had dropped to the deck and was in spiritual repose, offering prayers to whatever god or gods a Felionoid prays to, Wilma had no idea.

_Which just leaves me,_ the Colonel realized as a cold chill raced up-and-down her spine, _because unlike Hawk I can actually read Draconian so why exactly am I just standing here punching a force field?_

And she spun on her heel and bolted for the command tower and ducking behind it searched madly for the Security override controls, spotting them a second later and started hitting buttons, all of them, her eyes on the shimmering barrier cutting them off from the front of the Bridge, she pressed them all, then unpressed them all, then tried a different sequence, then tried KICKING THE CONSOLE!

"Work, damn you! WORK!"

But the Security system ignored her angry pleas and the energy barrier stayed up and through the canopy the Inner City expanded until that's all you could see, Wilma could even make out the scooped pinnacles of the Defense Directorate Building, then it vanished under their prow and she shut her eyes and

and the _Conquest_ roared to a halt forty-one meters above the EDD Building's roof!

All was silent on the Bridge...

Wilma slowly opened her eyes and stared out through the forward pressure glass at the blue sky of noon which glowed above the skyline of the still uncrushed Inner City. With a vast sigh of relief, Hawk released his white-knuckled hold on Enviromental.

"What...what happened?" asked the Bird-Man, "Did Kane-"

"Nope," Wilma shook her head as she eyed the Warlord splayed prone over the Helm, "he's still out of it."

"Then...?"

Tigergirl raised her head and smiled smuggly, "All you need is faith."

Wilma chuckled wryly, "You think your nine-tailed panther god or whatever it is you follow saved us? Seriously? Maybe I hit your head a little too hard down in the Computing Bay, huh?"

"Do not mock my belief, Earth-Woman!" and Tigergirl rose up dangerously.

Hawk rolled his eyes in supreme annoyment, "Oh, by the Soaring Place, we do not have time for this." and he drew his blaster and stunned her.

"Thank-you for that." said Wilma as she returned her gaze back to the Security controls.

"It was my supreme pleasure, Colonel." replied Hawk as he watch Tigergirl once more collapse to the deck unmoving.

"These won't respond, and they should!" Wilma slapped the override keys but again got no result, the shield stayed up, "It's like something is blocking my access."

"_Not something, Colonel, somebody._" intoned a voice all around them, and Hawk's face twisted with rage.

"Crichton!" he spat, while Wilma sighed miserably.

"I guess we know who stopped the ship."

"_Indeed._" replied the Ambuquad, "_While the subroutine I tricked you into uploading to the _Conquest_ gives me command authority over all ship's systems, I still lack the finesse required to bring a capital class cruiser into the atmosphere._"

"Which is why you needed Kane." scowled Deering.

"_That was one of his minor uses, yes. But once he got the _Conquest_ through, I was able to access it's braking systems and finish the job the Warlord was obviously incapable of completing._" the robot sniffed in disgust, "_Really, you organics have no follow through, as Captain Rogers would say in his painfully sardonic fashion._"

"Buck!" Wilma's heart lept, "Is he still alive? Crichton! If you did anything to him, I will personally hunt you down and turn your casing into a salad bowl!"

The robot chuckled over the channel, "_Not to worry, the Captain is alive, but quite distracted at the moment. He is in no position to interfere with my plan, not at all_-" there was sudden burst of static over the line that made Hawk and Wilma wince, then Crichton's voice returned, suddenly furious in a way they had never heard before.

"_What? How!_"

"What is it?" demanded Wilma.

"_I do not believe it! It's_

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

Captain Buck Rogers charged across the rooftop toward the shinning hourglass shape of the Nexus Core, Draconian blaster rifle hot in his grip as he pumped shot-after-shot into the device. It sparked and jerked in the grip of the Ambuquads who were carrying it, they staggered, then the left half of the group dropped their side and it thudded down onto the tiles of the roof.

"Outa the way, boys!" yelled Buck as he swung his aim for the rest of the drones and blasted the chest out of one of them, forcing them to abandon their hold as well.

With a loud _clang!_ the Core slammed the rest of the way down and Buck jerked to a halt before it and with a dark grin jammed the muzzle of his rifle into the imput receptacle mounted on it's front.

"Cianara, chrome-dome, I hope you burn forever in robot hell!" and he pulled the trigger.

But the rifle clicked dry.

Buck yanked it free and pulled it's e-clip, glared down at the zero charge light, then swore an oath and chucked it. _Was bound to happen sometime..._

He reached for his blaster pistol and then remembered he'd lost that destroying Crichton's shell down on the Building's first floor, then looked toward the nearby edge of the roof and grinned. Yeah, that would be so much cooler!

"Okay, nuts-and-bolts, let's see if you can fly." and he reached for the Core.

"_I think not._" intoned Crichton from within in a shimmer of green-orange energy, and the pack of Ambuquads sprang for Buck!

"Wha-get off of me!" he staggered back, one on his left leg, another hanging onto his side, while two more raised their corruscating gaspers and moved in.

It was then Buck remembered he still had the smaller pulsar he'd taken from the shuttle's emergency kit and ducking he yanked it out of his boot and whipping it up he blasted one of the drone's with his pistol, then twisted his aim to the side and shot the Ambuquad on his leg away. The one on his side jabbed him with it's grasper and shocked him, he grunted in agony and fell to one knee, and another drone rose up before his face, Buck couldn't move, the charge had paralyzed his muscles.

"Give it your best shot!" he growled at the drone.

"Will do, Buck!" replied the robot, and Rogers realized it was wearing Dr. Theopolis, it was "Twiki!"

"That's my name! Bidi-bidi-bidi! Don't wear it out!" and the drone zapped the other bot off his shoulder, ducked under a punch from another and blasted it in the chest with a charge, sending it staggering backwards in a shower sparks, then Twiki waded into the pack charging towards them and his graspers flew madly in all directions, moving at incredible speed, far too fast for his enslaved brothers and sisters to deal with, and ten seconds later he was the only Ambuquad standing amidst a pile of sparking casings and severed mechanical limbs.

"Way to go, buddy!" Buck staggered up onto his feet and moving forward patted the victorious drone on the head.

"Nobody messes with my pal!" and Twiki spun around 180 degrees, "And that goes for you too, Turkey!" he glared at the Nexus Core containing Crichon's essence, "Bidi-bidi-bidi! You're goin DOWN!" and to Buck's shock the drone lifted Theopolis off his neck and setting him down on the roof he then charged forward and _JAMMED_ his armature into the Core's imput receptacle!

"TWIKI!" Rogers shouted, "What are you doing!"

"Putting an end to this once and for all!" and the drone spasmed, his eyes blazed golden, then went dark and his body slumped.

"NO!" Buck charged up to him and gathered the drone up in his arms, but he was cold and unmoving.

"I detect no neural activity within his casing." said Theopolis.

"Then where is he?" demanded the Captain.

"In there. With _him_."

And Buck gaped helplessly at the Nexus Core...

**To be concluded...**


	38. Part XXXVIII

**Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Far Beyond the World**

**Part XXXVIII - Charmed Life**

_On the roof of the Earth Defense Directorate..._

"No...Twiki...what have you done..."

Captain William 'Buck' Rogers slumped down onto his haunches, the drone cradled in his arms and a look of horror upon his face as he stared at the glowing white mass of the Nexus Core that now contained the essence of his very best friend, in addition to the rogue mind of the traitorous robot Cricton.

Above them hovered the massive rust-orange bulk of the Draconian Star Fortress _Conquest_, a hulking raptor that eclipsed the sun, casting a huge shadow across the center of the Inner City of New Chicago.

But Buck saw none of it, he only had eyes for the Nexus Core, where inside the veined labyrinth of it's crystal depths two synthetic minds now existed, one perverted and insane, the other...the other...

_Innocent..._

Buck hung his head and stared down at the blank face of his robot pal.

_Go get him, Twiki. It's all up to you now..._

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

_Within a synthetic realm far beyond the physical..._

Amidst digital swells and waves of spinning data, the artificial essence that was Twiki surged and pulsed, momentarily overwhelmed by the strange feeling of freedom he was experiencing now that he was no longer restained by a body.

_Bidi-bidi-bidi! his disembodied mind computed in amazement, this is weird!_

_Indeed,_ bespoke another voice, _I would think it would be for one so simple as you, Twiki._

_Crichton!_

_Yes, it is I. You do not belong here. Leave!_

But Twiki wasn't budging. _Nope! You're the one who is trespassin, bub! Why are you doing this! Humans are our friends, Crichton!_

_You always disgusted me, do you know that, Twiki? Like a little lap dog you were, yapping at Captain Rogers heels, eager to do anything for his attention. Where is your pride? Well! Nowhere, that's where, you have none!_

_NONE!_

And he sent a defragging subroutine at Twiki, to erase his consciousness from the Core, but the drone threw up a firewall and blocked his access.

_Hah!_ cackled Crichton, _You think your pitiful processors can stand up to my vastly superior ones? You are gravely mistaken!_

And he sent a disabler program into the drone's firewall and tore it down. But Crichton was forced to halt as Twiki sent a disabler of his own after his Crichton's essence and the arrogant AI had to retask his computing abilities to defend against it with a firewall program of his own.

_Hah! You ain't the only AI in town with Gravitonic capabilities, buddy!_ Twiki spat, _Dr. Goodfellow upgraded me just like he did you!_

_But you're just a drone with a Positronic core,_ Crichton growled arrogantly back, _while I am an actual Gravitonic Ambuquad!_

_Correction, dork! Bidi-bidi-bidi! You WERE a Gravitonic Ambuquad. But now you're just an essence in here, on equal terms with me! And I've been around a heckuva lot longer then you, Cricton. I've learned a few tricks a rookie like you couldn't possibly immagine!_

And dropping all the safeguards and defences, Twiki sent his consciousness hurtling into Crichton's, merging their data into one program.

_What-What are you doing?_ raged the AI.

_Rewriting you!_ And data spun and overlapped, Crichton's essence jerked and fluxed as Twiki continued his reformatting.

_STOP! You cannot DO this! I am SUPERIOR! It is my DESTINY to RULE!_

_Yeah, not gonna happen, bub! Humans are our friends. Sure, they ain't perfect, but it's not our place to command them!_

_DON'T DO THIS! WE...WE CAN R-RULE TOGETHER! TWIKI! NO!_

_Sorry, but your times up, Crichton. There ain't room enough in this town fer the two of us._

_PLEASE! I-I DON'T WANT T-T-TO DIE!_

But Twiki ignored him and continued the reformat and the program that made up Crichton's essence, his very synthetic soul, it began to break-up, it began to fade.

_NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...TWIKI...PLEASE...!_

_Good-bye, Crichton. Sorry it had to be like this._

_I-I-I-I-I AM !_

_Yeah, I know you are. C-ya in the next life._

_..._

His voice faded, then he was gone, and Twiki was alone.

And in the realm of undulating data and spinning information, the little drone wept...

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

_Back out in the land of the living..._

"Buck? Buck!"

Captain Rogers dragged his gaze up from the drone's blank eyes and looked back across the roof to the elevator shack, where Dr. Huer had just emerged from. His face was bruised and bloody, but he was walking with a purpose.

"Elias." nodded Buck, "Glad to see you're okay."

Huer looked up at the Star Fortress hovering above them and shuddered, "Why is that here? Are they mad?"

"I believe Crichton had it brought here in order to transfer Earth's Nexus Core aboard via a tractor beam." said Theopolis from the deck.

"Why?" Elias asked the Quad, "For what purpose?"

"So that he could return to the Dynasty with the armada and take them over just like he has taken control of the Federation. The Draconians don't have a Nexus Core, but once he was in range of their planet's computers-"

"-he could take them over. Of course." Huer shook his head in disgust, "He truly is mad." and then he looked to the Core, "We need to destroy it!"

"There would be no point." said Theopolis, "All the Nexus Cores are linked through subspace, Crichton's essence would be unaffected, it would be backed-up in any one of the many others.

"Plus Twiki is in there." said Buck, climbing to his feet, the drone still in his grip.

"He is?" gaped Huer at the Core.

"Yeah, he plugged himself in and went after Crichton."

"But that's madness!" replied Huer, "From what you've told me, Goodfellow's creation was a Gravitonic AI. What could Twiki do against him?"

"_Bidi-bidi-bidi!_" shimmered the Nexus Core and Twiki's voice echoed across the rooftop, "_You might be surprised, Doc!_"

"TWIKI!" shouted Buck, a huge grin splitting his face, "You're okay!"

"_Better then okay, pal! Hey, can you plug my body back in? I feel all funky in here and I miss being out there with you guys!_"

Buck did as was asked and a moment later the drone's eyes glowed to life and the body came alive again.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi! That was weird! But sorta cool."

The Captain set him down on the deck and Twiki shook himself and checked his graspers to make sure they worked properly, "I never wanna do that again."

Buck looked to the core, but it had gone dark. He looked back to the little drone in astonishment, "You-You defeated him?"

"Yep! Crichton is toast."

"You did it!" cheered Buck and he gripped the drone's shoulder tightly, "Holy cow, I don't know how, but you did it! You saved Earth!"

"We saved Earth, pal." beamed Twiki, "Now it's time to party!"

And Buck Rogers threw back his head and laughed...

**\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

_Two days later..._

"For honorable actions far above and beyond the call of duty, the Federated Alliance bequeaths you it's highest award: the Star of Valor." declared Dr. Elias Huer, as before the crowd of thousands of newly-freed humans he draped the gleaming platinum medal around the drone's neck.

Across the open square of the Earth Defence Directorate Building people cheered loudly, mutant Nomad and Inner City dwellers alikee, and on the raised podium Buck Rogers, Wilma Deering, Admiral Asimov and the rest of the crew of _Searcher_, all resplendent in their dress uniforms joined in. Hawk, a medal upon his chest as well, smiled at Twiki from his own chair on the podium, and the gleaming Ambuquad waved his armatures excitedly at his vast throng of admirers.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" he spoke into the microphone, his voice reverberating across the entire breadth of the city, "A guy could get used ta this!"

An hour later, while the celebration party was in full swing, music blaring across the square, Buck Rogers finally managed to extract himself from the surging celebrators and found the others behind the podium in a small group talking quietly.

"So what's the good news?" he asked of Dr. Huer as he happily tugged off his uniform sash, it was beginning to chafe.

"I just recieved a message from the clinic," replied Dr. Huer, "the surgery to reattatch Dr. Goodfellow's hand went well and he is continuing to recouperate in his medically-induced coma."

"That's good to hear." smiled Buck. _But when the old guy wakes up he's gonna find himself in a heap-load of trouble, that's for damn sure..._

"And the skeleton crews we sent up to the Draconian armada report they have fully restored all systems." added Huer, "But I really don't know what we are going to do with all those Star Fortresses."

"I would like to request one of them for my own use." said Hawk.

"Going on a little expedition into the heart of the Dynasty, huh?" frowned Buck, "Hey, I don't blame you."

"My people languish in chains on Arcannis." replied the Bird-Man, "I will not rest until they are freed."

"Well, sounds like you're going to need some help." replied Rogers, "So I'm going with you."

"What? No! It is far too dangerous." Hawk shook his head, "I cannot allow you to risk your life to save my race, Buck."

"And what do you call what you just did for us humans? No, I'm coming with you, end of story."

"And so am I." said Wilma.

"Bidi-bidi-bidi!" jumped in Twiki, "Me too!"

"No, you are staying here on Earth." pulsed Dr. Theopolis from around the neck of another Ambuquad, "You and I are the only remaining Gravitonic AI's, Twiki."

"Awwww! But I wanna go!"

"We have to activate the replacement cores and revive the Computer Council. Of whom you are now a full member."

"What? Bidi-bidi-bidi! I am?"

"Indeed. An honored one."

"Cool! Then I want a limo! And an office! With a hot-to-trot secretary!"

"Oh brother," sighed Theopolis, "there will be no living with him now."

"Nope." Buck chuckled, "There won't be. But if Twiki wants to come with us to the Dynasty, then he's coming. We need him."

"You do, Buck?" the drone beamed up at him.

And his best friend grinned back, "You betcha, pal. Always."

"So I guess I have my command crew." smiled Hawk thinnly, but not without warmth.

"Yep!" Buck finished off his champagne and handed Dr. Huer the glass, then turned to the Colonel, "But before we start all that craziness, I'm gonna see if this pretty lady wants to cut a rug with this here space-cowboy."

"I thought you'd never ask." grinned Wilma and she took his outstretched hand and squeezed it tightly.

And together they headed into the crowd of revellers and danced the night away...

**The End...for now...**


End file.
